


Zorro Never Dies

by bragisapprentice



Category: Zorro (TV 1957)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 41,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bragisapprentice/pseuds/bragisapprentice
Summary: What happens after the Zorro TV series ends?  What if it's a reunion of all our favorite characters...plus pirates?  This story arc, hopefully to be posted in three parts on Thursdays at 8 p.m. (the hour the original series aired), is meant as an homage and tribute to the series, the characters of which belong to Disney, not myself.  I hope you enjoy!
Comments: 27
Kudos: 15





	1. Episode One: California’s Only Pirate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week: When a privateer kidnaps the sons of the dons and Diego’s faithful servant is swept up in the chaos, will help come in time? If Los Angeles fails to ransom its children, will the Fox be able to save them? Find out in this week’s episode of…Zorro!

Scene One

This early in the morning, the hills above the Pueblo de Los Angeles are deserted. No one is around to see a small figure in an olive jacket leading two horses by the halter. One is pitch black and the other is brilliant white, and the three have the entire hill country to use as their training ground.

Bernardo stops in a sheltered hollow and slides off the halters. Turning to the white horse, he gestures for Phantom to stay where he is. Then Bernardo turns his back and walks half a dozen paces away. When he looks back, Phantom is right at his heels, sniffing for apples in his pockets. Bernardo sighs, pushes the horse back to his starting position, and tries again.

This time, he stops suddenly after two steps and turns around. Phantom freezes, but there is no hiding that he hasn’t stayed where Bernardo left him. Bernardo shakes a finger at him, takes three more steps, and turns again. He beams when he sees that Phantom has remained in place. He waves the horse to come to him, but Phantom stares at him impassively and doesn’t move.

Again Bernardo sighs, pushes the horse back to where he started, and turns to the black one, who has been following the proceedings with his swiveling ears. Bernardo lines Tornado up next to Phantom and gestures for Phantom to watch how it’s done.

He gives Tornado the “stay” command, walks a dozen paces to the end of the hollow while the horse waits patiently beside Phantom, then turns and waves him forward. Tornado leaps into a trot and jogs up to Bernardo, nosing his waistcoat for his apple.

Bernardo pats the glossy neck and raises an eyebrow pointedly at Phantom. But Phantom is no longer looking that way: his ears are pricked and he raises his nose, scenting the air. Just then Tornado raises his head too, and Bernardo sniffs experimentally. His expression of curiosity turns to one of concern when he catches the scent on the wind.

Leaving the horses, he climbs out of the hollow and up to the crest of the nearest hill. From there, he looks down into the valley where the pueblo sits. A column of white smoke rises into the clear blue sky, but it’s not coming from the pueblo itself. It’s coming from a rancho beyond it, closer to the sea.

Bernardo turns quickly in a circle, looking for help. There are only the two horses, who have followed him up the hill. Gathering himself, he grabs Tornado’s mane and tries to leap onto his bare back. He gets halfway, clings for a second to the horse’s side, then thumps back to the ground. He tries twice more with the same results, and then Tornado flicks his ears back, shakes his mane, and lowers himself into a bow. Bernardo scrambles onto his back and the horse heaves himself upright again.

Bernardo urges him forward and Tornado leaps into a gallop, his rider nearly sliding off in the process. Bernardo turns and gestures for Phantom to “stay,” but the white horse only eyes him and then follows Tornado.

They race across the hills, cutting through pastures and woodland to avoid the public road that leads to the pueblo. When they reach the rancho, the hacienda is already little more than a smoking ruin, and not a soul is in sight. Bernardo looks around helplessly until suddenly a faint cry comes down the wind. The horses hear it too, turning their ears in its direction. Bernardo urges Tornado to follow the sound, and soon they are back in the fields, cutting across country in the direction of the cries that continue to punctuate the horses’ hoof beats.

Coming over the last ridge, Bernardo brings Tornado to a sharp halt as he finally spots what they have been pursuing. Not far below them is a creek that runs into the salt marsh, and on the near bank of that creek are two boats. And in the boats are half a dozen children and half a dozen…

Pirates. Bernardo mouths the word since he cannot say it. They are well-dressed pirates, wearing sailors’ uniforms, but no one but pirates would be herding frightened children at gunpoint onto rowboats whose prows are turned toward Santa Monica Bay.

Bernardo slides down from Tornado and pushes the two horses backward a few steps so they can’t be seen from below. He gestures for them to stay, starts to leave, and then on second thought returns and manoeuvers Tornado so that he stands in Phantom’s way. He gives Phantom a meaningful nod and then heads stealthily down the little hill.

The children, crying and occasionally shouting when one of the pirates prods him with the end of a lance, have all been loaded into the boats now, and the sailors are preparing to shove off. Sheltered behind a scrub brush, Bernardo reaches for his sword. He didn’t bring it. Then he reaches for a pistol. He didn’t bring one of those either. He pats his waistcoat frantically and comes up with his slingshot. Searching the ground at his feet, he finds a handful of pebbles worn smooth by the water. One of these he fits into his sling, takes careful aim, and fires at the nearest sailor, who is bent over pushing the boat off the bank.

There is a sharp “smack” and the sailor leaps up, howling and holding his backside.

“What’s the matter?” another barks at him. 

“Something stung me!” he cries.

“A bee,” the other says. “Shut up and don’t be a child. You’re worse than they are.” He cuffs a nearby boy in the back of the head.

Bernardo takes aim again, and this time it’s the other sailor who howls, holding his knuckles where a pebble has cracked them.

“Another one?” asks the first sailor, still rubbing his backside.

Bernardo covers his mouth and laughs soundlessly. He sends a third pebble at the back of the head of the sailor sitting in the stern, and now three of them are hopping about and cursing.

He is just about to fire again when a hand grabs him roughly by the shoulder and spins him around.

“A bee, is it?” the sailor growls. He snatches the slingshot and tosses it into the brush. Before Bernardo can collect himself, the sailor seizes his wrist, twists his arm behind his back, and frog marches him down to the bank.

“Move over, Ramón. Another passenger for you. Don’t worry: I removed his stinger.”

“He’s dressed like a servant,” Ramón objects. “The orders were for the dons’ children.”

The sailor pushes Bernardo into the boat and Bernardo loses his balance as they shove off. He sits down hard in the stern and the sailor puts his boot on his chest to keep him down.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a grin. “I’m sure we’ll find a use for him.”


	2. Episode One: Scene Two

Peering over the ridge where Bernardo left them, Tornado observes the scuffle at the creek. As soon as the boats slide down into the water, the horse wheels and rushes past Phantom, going back the way they came. Phantom takes a look at the retreating boats, which until that moment had been hidden behind Tornado’s back, then follows the black horse.

They fly back across the pastures and through the woodlands, their manes whipping like flame. Phantom outstrips Tornado, pulling first a few lengths ahead and then many. They follow a familiar route back to their home, and Phantom arrives at the de la Vega rancho minutes ahead of Tornado. He passes like a ghost around the hacienda and out into the back pasture, where a stand of willow trees and brush hide the entrance to the cave where he stables.

Tornado thunders onto the property long after the dust raised by Phantom has settled, but instead of heading to the cave, he stops at the front gate to the hacienda. He raises his head to peek in the gate’s barred window, getting a look with one eye at the deserted patio within. He stands back and whinnies loudly. No one answers. He looks left and right. No one is about. 

So he raises the gate latch with his lips and gets his teeth around the pin. Pulling it free, he shoves the gate open with his nose and steps cautiously onto the patio. Still no one. 

Tornado walks over to the bottom of the staircase, looks it up and down several times, and then launches himself up the stairs with a great clattering of hooves. Once at the top, he pauses, turning his ears this way and that before he decides on his direction. The latch on the bedroom door poses no difficulties for him, and he is soon standing at the foot of Don Diego’s bed.

Diego has not been awakened by the clopping of hooves on the wooden floor, so Tornado wedges himself in between the fireplace and the bed and gives Diego’s shoulder a nudge with his nose.

“It’s early, Bernardo,” Diego mumbles into his pillow. “Come back in an hour.”

Tornado assesses the situation, then grabs the blanket in his teeth and jerks it onto the floor.

“Hey!” Diego turns over and opens his eyes to the sight of a soft velvet nose breathing in his face. He springs bolt upright.

“Tornado!” he says. “You’re in my room. How did you get in my room?” Then his brain catches up. “What’s wrong? Where’s Bernardo?”

Tornado nods his head vigorously.

“No, no. Don’t act it out. Pantomiming with a person is bad enough. Take me to him. Not that way!” he adds as Tornado makes an attempt to turn around in the small space. “It’s a wonder no one saw you coming up in the first place. You’ll have to go down the passage.”

He gets up, presses the hidden latch under the mantle, and the panel in the wall swings open. Tornado eyes him.

“I’m sorry, boy, but it’s the only way.” Diego waves the horse ahead. “After you. I need to get dressed.” Tornado sighs and takes a step forward, then Diego stops him with a touch to the shoulder. “Try not to break anything, will you?”

Tornado tosses his head and carefully wedges his way through the narrow opening. Diego reaches for his boots, then winces at a muffled crash from inside the passage. It is followed by the receding sound of hoof falls as Tornado makes his way down the spiral staircase, his hips and shoulders swishing against the stone walls as he descends. Diego gathers his things and backs through the panel, closing it softly behind him.

A short time later, a masked figure in black rides out from under the hanging branches that cover the cave mouth. For the third time today, Tornado traverses the hills above Los Angeles, heading toward the creek. When they reach the point where Bernardo was taken, Zorro slides from Tornado’s back and comes down the hill to examine the tracks on the bank.

“Children,” he says, looking at the little boot prints. “And adults. And two boats.” Behind the mask, his eyes follow the keels’ smooth rut down the sand and into the water. He gazes downstream, but the creek disappears around a bend.

Quickly, he climbs back to Tornado and they gallop along the ridge toward the bay. The path is broken by a sharp cleft in the ravine, but Tornado leaps it as though it were a fence pole. When they come to the sudden end of a rocky outcropping, the salt marsh lies below them. Zorro stands in his stirrups, looking not at the marsh but at the bay.

In the deep water, two ships lie at anchor—a three-masted corvette and a smaller, two-masted lugger—and the two rowboats from the creek are just at this moment drawing up alongside the larger vessel. They are at too great a distance to see much, but one thing is certain: there is an olive green jacket among the jumble of prisoners in the boats.

Zorro strikes the saddle horn in frustration. “We’re too late, Tornado.” The horse bobs his head. “No, you did all you could, boy. It’s not your fault. Come, back to the rancho. Zorro can’t help here—not yet.”


	3. Episode One: Scene Three

Once the boats have been hauled up to the ship’s rail, Bernardo and the other prisoners tumble out onto the deck. As they pick themselves up and sway unsteadily on the rolling boards, the sailors herd them into a straggling row along the rail for inspection.

“Welcome to _La Santa Rosa_ ,” says a French-accented voice from the helm, and all eyes turn toward a man in a military uniform. His dark hair is receding from his temples but comes to a point in the middle of his forehead. He has a sword on his hip and his hat under his arm. “I am your capitán, Hippolyte de Bouchard.”

“El Pirata Buchar!” cries the boy next to Bernardo.

The captain draws himself up. “‘Bucharrrr’ if you insist,” he says, rolling the Spanish “r” exaggeratedly. “But it’s capitán, not pirata, if you please.”

“But you _are_ a pirate,” the boy insists. “You raided Monterey.”

“And San Juan Capistrano,” Buchar reminds him. “But in times like these, what to you looks like piracy looks to me like patriotism.”

Bernardo tugs on the boy’s sleeve, trying to get him to hold his tongue, but the child ignores him. “You’re still a pirate,” is his stubborn reply.

“What’s your name, boy?” Buchar barks.

Bernardo tugs harder, and the child pulls his sleeve out of his grip. “I’m not telling _you_.”

The captain approaches slowly and stands before the boy, casting his eye up and down the line of captives. “You see, I think you will.”

“I won’t!”

In a flash, the captain has a dagger under the boy’s nose. “Did you know you can still breathe if I cut off your nose?” he asks casually.

The boy shakes his head in a small gesture, his eyes straining to see the blade.

“Oh, you can,” Buchar says. “It looks pretty dreadful, though. And you have such a nice nose, a nose the girls will love you for, if you ever get to grow up. Now. What is your name?”

“Jorge.”

Buchar huffs in exasperation, pressing the flat of the blade against the skin. “Not your Christian name: your surname. Whose family do you come from?”

“Esperón!” the boy gasps, and Buchar’s dagger vanishes into its sheath. 

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? You set a good example for the other boys.” He raises his voice to address the others in the line. “I want your names, all of you! Lieutenant, write them down.”

“Sí, capitán,” the lieutenant says, and heads to the far end of the line.

Buchar is about to turn away when he notices Bernardo standing head and shoulders above the children.

“You don’t look like a don’s boy,” the captain observes.

Bernardo’s eyes grow wide and he shrugs helplessly. He points to his ears and to his mouth and shakes his head.

“We think he can’t talk,” one of the sailors volunteers. “Didn’t make a sound when we caught him.”

“A mute, eh?” Buchar says.

Bernardo points to his ears again and shakes his head.

“Deaf too, it looks like,” the captain adds. “What did you bring him on for? Doesn’t look to be of much use.”

“He was shooting at us with a slingshot,” the sailor complains.

“So you thought it was a good idea to bring him aboard?”

“Shall I shoot him, sir?” The sailor reaches for his pistol.

“Not yet,” Buchar says casually. “Let’s wait until we see who he works for.”

“I have the names, Capitán,” the lieutenant reports.

“Good. Put them at the bottom of the letter, and mind you spell them correctly.”

“Sí, Capitán.”

“As for the rest of you,” Buchar goes on, addressing the boys again, “in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you are my guests on _La Santa Rosa_ while your families decide how much you are worth to them. I apologize for the unpleasantness, but it is a sign of the times.”

He paces up and down the line as he continues. “You will have room and board at my own expense during the interim, and an hour of exercise on deck every day. Belowdecks, you will find blankets and I dare say enough space to sleep in. If you behave yourselves”—and here he gives Jorge Esperón a hard look—you will be permitted to move about unbound. Misbehave…and your families will be getting back less of you than they expect. Is that understood?”

“Sir, I’d suggest we tie this one all the same,” a sailor puts in, gesturing toward Bernardo. It’s the sailor who caught him. “He might be dangerous.”

Buchar raises an eyebrow. “Doesn’t look it, but as you will.” He waves his hand and two sailors come forward to shackle Bernardo’s wrists, then his ankles, running a chain between the two sets of irons.

The lieutenant returns. “The letter, Capitán.”

Buchar takes it, looks it over, and gives a curt nod. “Seal it.” He turns his attention from the captive boys to the crew. “Now all I need is a volunteer to take it to the cuartel. Who will go?”

The sailors shuffle. “It’s broad daylight, Capitán,” someone says.

“Fine, I shall pick someone,” Buchar barks. “You. No, not you. You, Third Mate. You’ve been to Los Angeles before, isn’t that right?”

A sailor standing in the shadows of the quarterdeck makes a noncommittal noise.

“Well, have you?”

“Sí, Capitán.”

“Good. Then you’re the man.” He snatches the newly sealed letter from his lieutenant and holds it out.

The sailor takes one step forward and reaches for the letter so that his back turns to the captives along the rail. Bernardo leans to one side but cannot see his face.

“Listen,” Buchar goes on, “I’ll add a little honey for you. Come back without being seen and I shall give you an extra week’s pay. Leave the letter on the comandante’s _desk_ and come back without being seen and I’ll double that. Let them know there’s no part of that pueblo we can’t reach. Understand?”

“Sí, Capitán.”

“Good,” says Buchar. “Now go, and if you’re going to come back with the whole army following you, don’t come back at all.”


	4. Episode One: Scene Four

It is afternoon by the time the sailor reaches Los Angeles on foot to deliver the ransom note. The sun has grown hot and the quiet of siesta rests over the whole pueblo, its citizens still unaware of the threat in the bay. A pair of gloved hands appears on the top of the cuartel’s back wall, followed by a head that rises only high enough to peer into the yard. The mustachioed soldier on guard at the gate is asleep, with his face leaning against the rifle he cradles.

The sailor slips over the wall and onto the stable roof. He wears a bandana over his nose and mouth, concealing everything but his keen, darting eyes. From the roof it is a short drop into the hay wagon, then a dash past the jail cells with their slumbering inhabitants and into the comandante’s office. It is a route another intruder has traveled many times before, but that one wears a different mask.

The comandante’s office is bolted from the inside, but the sailor slides a knife between the door and the jam and works the bolt loose. He steps inside and closes the door silently behind him, but he doesn’t immediately leave the note on the desk and retreat. Instead, his eyes travel all the way around the office, taking in the chairs, the barred window, the fine oak desk and cabinet behind it. He goes to the desk and stands for a long time looking at the empty chair.

Outside in the yard, the mustachioed soldier wakes suddenly when he drops his rifle. He leaps to his feet and retrieves it from the ground, but after that his energy seems to desert him again and his eyes begin to close. He shakes himself and sets off on a slow march back and forth in front of the gate, more a stroll than a march. After a few passes, he stops to look lazily around the yard and sees a figure moving past the window in the comandante’s office. He looks a second time, confirms that there is indeed someone inside, and then makes his way to the barracks.

A large, barrel-chested man is lumbering down the barracks steps, sorting through a stack of papers. The soldier stops in front of him.

“Hey Sergeant.”

Sergeant García stops perusing the papers and looks down with a benignly patient expression. “Corporal Reyes, How many times must I remind you to call me Comandante?”

“But you’re only acting comandante,” Reyes points out.

“Well, right now, that is the same thing! You salute and announce yourself when you give a report to a comandante.” He folds his arms over his ample belly. “Now, would you like to try again?”

“Not really.”

“Corporal!”

“Fine, Sergeant.” The soldier draws himself up, salutes smartly, and says, “Corporal Reyes here to report, Comandante.”

García relaxes. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, what did you want to report?”

“It’s just,” says Reyes, “is there supposed to be someone in your office, Sergeant?”

“In my what?” García exclaims. “You idiot, wasting all this time on formalities.” He thrusts the papers into Reyes’ hands. “Don’t lose those. Follow me.”

He hurries across the yard, drawing his saber as he runs. Reyes trails after, trying to get all the papers back into a bundle.

García bursts through the office door and thunders, “Stop where you are!”

The sailor, still standing behind the desk, looks up and his eyes grow wide. 

“Who is it, Sergeant?” Reyes asks from behind him.

“A bandito!” The sergeant lunges forward, sword at the ready. “I arrest you in the name of the king!”

The sailor has only a knife, but he squares off ready to meet the attack. García aims a blow with his saber, but the sailor deflects it with his small blade and dives around the far side of the desk.

“Grab him, Corporal!” García shouts, but the sailor keeps the desk between him and his assailants.

“You go this way, I go this way,” the sergeant commands, but Reyes goes right as García goes left and they collide. The papers fly in every direction.

The sailor sees his chance and leaps past the tangled pair, but Reyes puts out a foot and trips him. The intruder stumbles and lands on his back.

“I have him!” García cries, seizing the stranger’s wrist even as though he himself is barely back on his feet. “Grab his feet, Corporal!”

But the sailor kicks Reyes in the chest, sending him sprawling backward, then tries to pry García’s meaty hand off his wrist.

“Stop that,” García grunts, but as he reaches out to catch the sailor’s other hand, he catches the bandana and pulls it away from a bearded face.

For a split second, the two stare wide-eyed at each other.

“Comandante!” García gasps.

And suddenly he’s scrambling to attention, giving his smartest salute.

“Comandante who?” Reyes asks, rubbing his bruised breastbone.

The sailor leaps to his feet and flees from the office. By the time Reyes trudges to the door, the intruder is already over the wall.

“That…that was Capitán Monastario. The comandante,” García says, pointing out the door as though in a haze.

“I thought you were the comandante,” Reyes points out.

“I’m the acting comandante,” García says. “That…that was the real one.”

“Well, he has hard boots,” Reyes complains. “But look, Sergeant, he left a note.”

Both soldiers lean over the desk, where the note sits innocently on the leather writing surface. After a hesitation, García takes the letter and breaks the seal.

“What does it say, Sergeant?” Reyes asks.

“It says…” García stammers, “that the comandante has become a pirate.”


	5. Episode One: Scene Five

As the sun drops slowly into the sea, two riders approach the shore on the edge of the marsh, one on a palomino and the other on a lanky bay. Don Diego and Alejandro stop on a sandy spit just above the tide line and watch the boat rowing its way toward them.

“Are you sure this isn’t a task for Zorro?” Alejandro asks under his breath even though the boat is still beyond the breakers.

“We don’t know who this is, Father,” Diego says. “We don’t know how many men he has or how well supplied his ships are. If it really is Hippolyte Bouchard, he’s no idle ruffian Zorro can dispense with a flick of the wrist.”

Alejandro harrumphs and crosses his hands over the saddle horn, watching the boat bob in the surf. “Who raised you to be so cautious?”

“How have you lived this long being so impulsive?” Diego asks mildly.

“When we get aboard, let me do the talking,” Alejandro says. “It’s me the dons have asked to represent them in the negotiations. You’re only here because—why are you here, Diego?”

Diego smiles. “Getting the lay of the land—or rather, the ship. In case Zorro needs to know about it. Later.”

Alejandro grins. “That’s more like it. Here they are.”

The sailors who land the boat are obsequious, bowing and removing their caps while Alejandro and Diego dismount and tie their horses. 

“You must leave your weapons on shore,” one of them says when he sees Alejandro’s sword. When Alejandro shoots him a wrathful glare, he bows again and smiles. “Capitán’s orders, I’m afraid. You understand.”

Alejandro looks as though he would very much like to let his sword-point say he does not understand in the least, but when Diego lays a hand on his arm, he relents and straps the weapon to his saddle.

By the time they climb over the ship’s rail, it is dark, and the only light on the deck comes from lamps whose flames flicker in the sea wind. In this fitful light, the smiling face of El Pirata Buchar is half gold and half pitch. “Welcome aboard _La Santa Rosa_ ,” he says with a flourishing bow.

“Well, he’s definitely French,” Alejandro mutters.

“Yes, we are an international federation here on this ship,” he says, casually ignoring the barb. “First mate Van Horn here is Dutch, Canutt is…what are you, Canutt? Maybe Danish? English? And the two Cavenses over there are Belgian. Father and son—very fine swordsmen. Not that you’ll ever have reason to see that for yourselves, of course.”

“Of course,” Diego agrees. 

“I am Don Alejandro de la Vega,” Alejandro says impatiently, “and this is my son, Diego.”

“Yes, we received your request for a parley,” Buchar says. “De la Vega. That name is not on my list. I don’t believe any of your family members are my guests onboard.”

“Guests,” huffs Alejandro. “The dons have asked me to come on their behalf, to negotiate the release of the hostages.”

Buchar opens his hands. “Negotiate? I don’t think there’s anything to negotiate. My letter was clear, no?”

“Your ransom note, you mean! Three thousand pesos to buy back half a dozen children from a pirate?”

“I have a letter of marque from Argentina,” Buchar explains patiently. “It licenses me to gain assets from the Spanish crown on behalf of the Argentine state. This is diplomacy, what we’re doing here.”

“Forgive me,” Diego says mildly, “but weren’t you on trial for this _diplomacy_ in Chile recently? Or were we misinformed?”

Buchar bristles and the shadows on his face deepen in the firelight. “My ships, as you well see, were returned to me.”

“But not the loot that was in them,” Diego guesses.

“These are times of war and revolution,” Buchar says impatiently. “Sometimes a man must remake himself from nothing.”

“And remaking oneself is costly,” Diego observes. 

Alejandro stomps forward. “So you attack a bunch of children at school, knock their tutor senseless, burn Don Yorba’s hacienda, and hold them for ransom? How do you sleep at night, Buchar?”

Buchar’s hand goes to his sword hilt, but he restrains himself at the last second and takes a deep breath. “Did you bring the three thousand pesos or didn’t you?”

“No one has that kind of money,” Alejandro says. “Not immediately to hand, anyway. We came to negotiate terms.”

Buchar’s mouth sets in a hard line. “The terms are three thousand pesos or I sail away with your children and sell them as slaves in Peru.”

“Look,” Alejandro says, “we brought fifteen hundred pesos. That’s two hundred and fifty per child. Take it now and let the boys go.”

Buchar smiles out of one side of his mouth, steps forward, and takes the purse Alejandro is holding out to him. “How about I take it now and _keep_ the boys until you come up with the other fifteen hundred? Hmm?” He pats Alejandro on the chest and hands the purse to a sailor. “Take them back to shore.”

“Why, you—” Alejandro cries. He strikes the first sailor who comes near him, and within seconds, both he and Diego have their arms held behind their backs by members of Buchar’s crew.

“Give us one hostage,” Diego shouts above the noise of the struggle.

Buchar, who was turning away, turns back. “And why would I do that?”

“Call it…a gesture of trust,” Diego says. “From one gentleman to another.”

For a long moment, Buchar scrutinizes Diego’s face in the flickering lamplight. “Fine. One hostage, as a sign of my good faith.”

“We’ll need to see them all,” Diego says. The sailors are still pinching his arms behind him.

“Yes I know: never buy a horse sight unseen,” Buchar sighs. “How pedestrian. Bring them up.”

Someone opens the hatch and up come the dons’ sons, dirty and bedraggled but not bleeding. At a sign from Buchard, the sailors release Diego and he comes forward to look each boy over.

“They’re not hurt, Father,” he reports.

“So which one do you want?” Buchar asks.

At that moment, Bernardo rises out of the hold, his chains clanking on the ladder. Diego takes an instinctive step toward him, then stops himself.

“Sorry, Capitán,” says the turnkey coming up from the hold, “I forgot this one.”

“Idiot—” Buchar begins, but at that same moment, Alejandro shouts, “Bernardo!”

“You know this deaf-mute?” Buchar asks with interest.

“No,” Diego tries to say, but Alejandro struggles violently against the sailors holding him and shouts, “He is my son’s manservant! Why is he in chains? I demand he be set loose immediately!”

Buchar strokes his upper lip (he has no mustache) and says, “I’d be happy to set him loose. For another…six hundred pesos.”

“Six hundred!” Alejandro says. “The dons’ sons are five!”

“That is true,” says Buchar, “but as you see, this one is much bigger than they are. And you have met my hospitality with very poor manners. Of course,” he goes on casually, “you could just take him now and leave all the dons’ sons with me. It’s your choice—him or one of them.”

Diego looks a question at Bernardo, who shakes his head. Diego closes his eyes for a second and then looks at his servant again. Bernardo points as best he can with his shackled hands to a particularly grubby boy standing stony-faced at the end of the line.

“We’ll take him,” Diego says, putting his hand on Jorge Esperón’s shoulder. Only then does the boy look up, hope dawning on his tear-streaked face.

“Done,” Buchar barks. He waves away the sailors holding Alejandro’s arms and they let him go. “Take them back to shore. And next time, Señores, mind your manners. You have twenty-four hours to produce the rest of the ransom or I sail to Peru. That’s twenty-one hundred pesos now, unless you don’t want your manservant back. Buenas noches.”

Diego watches Bernardo’s forlorn face until the boat is lowered into the sea.


	6. Episode One: Scene Six

An hour before dawn, the turnkey lets the sleepy hostages out of the hold again for their promised exercise on the deck. The lamps still provide the only real light, and as the prisoners walk in circles along the rail, their bodies cast larger-than-life shadows all around them. The lamps on the lugger are lit too, and Bernardo pauses in his march when they illuminate a number of figures on the other ship. They do not look like sailors.

There are perhaps thirty boys and young men walking in circles on the deck, wearing the simple smocks and tunics of the mission Indians. Bernardo blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again, but the vision does not change. Then he blinks again, because one of the figures is not a boy. The lugger is anchored at some distance from _La Santa Rosa_ , but the figure standing at the rail is clearly a young woman. As Bernardo watches, a uniformed sailor approaches her and sends her back to her march.

“I’m tired of walking,” one of the dons’ sons complains to the turnkey. Several others voice their agreement.

“You’re supposed to get an hour of exercise, capitán’s orders,” the turnkey says.

“They can’t walk for an hour,” another sailor puts in. “They have little legs.”

“Fine,” says the turnkey. “But I’m not to put you back in the hold until dawn. Sit down over here and be quiet.”

The children and Bernardo sit down in a circle at the bow of the ship, but being children, the dons’ sons cannot sit still for long. An argument breaks out about someone sitting on someone else’s hand, answered by a counter-accusation about the reasonable occupation of space on the deck.

“I said be quiet!” the turnkey barks, but his wrath has no effect on the argument.

Bernardo looks from turnkey to boys and back again, then taps one of the brawling children on the shoulder. It takes a moment to get his attention, but once he has, Bernardo holds up his hands to show they are empty. He pulls at his shirt cuffs to show there is nothing hidden inside his sleeves. He waves his hands about and presto! A gold pocket watch suddenly appears in his fingers.

“How did you do that?” one boy demands.

Bernardo only smiles, waves his hands again, and poof! The watch is gone.

“Well, where is it?” asks the turnkey, coming over and leaning on his rifle butt.

Bernardo gets up and faces the turnkey, but as he raises his hands to repeat the demonstration, his chains jerk tight and hinder his movements. He makes a show of tugging at them helplessly and then seems to give up.

The turnkey looks around to see if any of the other sailors are watching, then pulls the key ring from his belt. “I guess if I can’t keep you under control without these I’m not much of a guard, eh?” He discreetly unlocks Bernardo’s chains and steps back with a gesture for Bernardo to continue. 

Again Bernardo shows his empty hands, waves them about, and snap! He pulls the watch from behind the turnkey’s ear. The boys applaud.

Over the turnkey’s shoulder, a light suddenly flares up from the deck of the neighboring ship. As the turnkey examines the magic watch, a furled sail on the lugger goes up in flame. There is a rush of frantic activity on the deck as all hands fly into action to put out the fire before it spreads. As Bernardo watches, the young woman he saw earlier climbs onto the rail. Bernardo’s face registers surprise and alarm.

“What?” the turnkey asks, looking up from the watch. He starts to turn and look over his shoulder, but Bernardo taps him quickly on the chest, waves his hands around, and ta-da! Two pocket watches materialize in his palms.

“That’s _my_ pocket watch!” the turnkey cries. “How do you do that?”

Bernardo looks over the turnkey’s shoulder again as he returns the pilfered watch. The woman checks that the sailors are still occupied dousing the last of the flames and leaps overboard. For a moment, her gray dress is visible against the black water, but quickly she disappears into the darkness as she swims toward shore.

“Well, what else can you do, little deaf-mute?” the turnkey asks, securing his pocket watch inside his jacket. When Bernardo looks confused, the sailor gestures for him to go on.

Bernardo casts about the deck and finds a blanket rolled up among the ropes under the bowsprit, at the very front of the ship. He shakes it out with great panache and displays it, front and back, for his audience to observe. He flaps it around like a bullfighter’s cape, then raises it high over his head, concealing his entire body. There is a tense pause, the blanket gives a little jump, and when it falls limply to the ground, Bernardo is no longer behind it.

“Where did he go?” the turnkey cries. “Did he jump overboard?”

“No splash,” says one of the dons’ sons. 

The sailor rushes to the rail, but there is no one in the water below. “Search the ship!” he shouts to the sailors on the quarterdeck. “He has to be aboard somewhere.”

The sailors scurry about looking in every barrel and coil of rope. The children laugh, and when the turnkey menaces them, they laugh even harder.

Meanwhile, a little round figure clings unseen to the underside of the bowsprit, laughing silently up at the sailors searching for him. He looks for the first time at what he’s holding onto and nearly loses his grip when he finds himself staring a full-bosomed figurehead right in the face. He recovers himself just in time, though, and continues to hang like a sloth on a branch until the sailors on deck give up the search.

“He’s a wizard,” one of them says.

“Or a ghost.”

Looking flattered and impressed with himself, Bernardo waits for a wave to clap against the side of the ship and, under the cover of its noise, drops unheard into the sea below. In the predawn light, the water is still black as ink, and he quickly vanishes from sight among the swells as he swims to shore.


	7. Episode One: Scene Seven

Alejandro is flying about the library gathering things to pack. Diego follows him around, putting things back in order in his father’s wake.

“The governor will be here in two days,” Alejandro says. “Buchar must know it.”

“The governor’s itinerary isn’t secret,” Diego says, closing a drawer Alejandro has left open. “They have parades planned for him everywhere he’s going to tour.”

“That’s why Buchar is only giving us a day to ransom the children. He knows the governor can call up the fleet and sink his _Santa Rosa_ to the bottom of the bay. Where is my accounts book?”

Diego pulls it from another drawer and hands it over. “So you’re planning to intercept the governor?”

“The dons aren’t going to be able to produce the ransom in time. But if I can catch the governor before he reaches San Luis Obispo, he can mobilize the fleet and overtake Buchar before he even makes it to San Pedro. Ha!”

There is a knock on the door and a vaquero enters, pulling his hat from his head. “Excuse me, Señores.”

“What is it, Benito?” Alejandro barks, rummaging through a stack of papers.

“This is Juan Pablo, Father,” Diego says. “Benito left to marry Doña Elena. A month ago?”

Alejandro looks up at the man who has entered. “Yes, of course. Vaqueros marrying dons’ daughters. What is the world coming to? What is it, Juan Pablo?”

“I found a young woman on the road to the pueblo,” he says. She was very wet and had no shoes. She said she wanted to be brought here, so I brought her.”

“Wet?” Alejandro repeats.

“Bring her in, Juan Pablo,” say Diego.

The vaquero ducks out and returns presently with a woman in tow. Her gray muslin dress has dried, but her long black hair is still damp. She indeed has no shoes, yet despite her state she stands with her head up and her back as straight as a soldier’s. Juan Pablo leaves her just inside and retreats.

For a second the two men only stare at her, but then Diego steps forward. “Señorita, please come in and sit down. I am Don Diego and this is my father, Don Alejandro.” He gestures her into the library and into a chair by the fireplace. “I think I’ve seen you before, no? At the mission?”

When the woman lowers herself into the offered chair, exhaustion seems to wash over her limbs and she slumps briefly. “Would you…like some wine?” Alejandro asks, gesturing at a carafe on the desk.

“A cup of water, if you would,” she says, passing a hand over her forehead.

Alejandro goes in search of a servant and Diego leans against the mantle, watching her.

“Yes, we have met at the mission,” the woman says. “My name is Pilar.”

“Pilar, of course. You live there, no?”

“I was brought to the mission after my family died of the measles.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She bows slightly. “You are kind. Not every don is sorry to hear of death among the Gabrieleños.” 

Diego bows in return.

“I have been at San Gabriel for five years—now I teach the younger girls.”

“Very admirable,” Diego says. “But forgive me, Señorita: it doesn’t explain why you are in my father’s library with wet hair and no shoes.”

At this point Alejandro returns with a cup and a pitcher of water. Pilar drains the cup rapidly and he refills it for her. Only when she has caught her breath does she continue.

“Two nights ago,” she begins, “there was a raid on the mission.”

“Indians looking for gold?” Alejandro guesses, but she shakes her head sharply.

“Europeos, looking for Indians.”

When they look confused, she goes on. “They came after compline, after we had gone to bed. They started shooting at the walls of the convento, but I think it was just to frighten us. They stormed into the reducción and tied the hands of all the young men. Everyone was screaming.”

“Was anyone killed?” Alejandro asks.

“Inocente tried to stop them. They hit him with a rifle and I didn’t see him move again.”

“But you don’t know?”

“They left the women and the littlest children, but they marched the boys and young men out toward the hills, like they were going to the pueblo.”

“And you followed them,” Diego guesses.

“I followed them. They took the boys over the hills and down to the creek—no rest, no water. By the time they got to the boats, they were too exhausted and frightened to fight. I tried to help, but I was tired too.”

“So they captured you.”

Her eyes glint a bit despite her exhaustion. “I had a little knife, and there are two sailors who won’t soon forget it. But the blade broke on someone’s bayonet. That’s when they tied me up.”

Diego raises his eyebrows. “You were very brave.”

“But stupid. I won’t make that mistake again. They took us to the ship in the bay— _El Neptuno_.”

“Buchar’s lugger,” Alejandro says to Diego. “What do they want with the Indians?”

She shakes her head. “They never spoke of it around us.”

“Why did Padre Felipe not report this yesterday?”

“He was called away the afternoon of the raid. A dying man somewhere. It may have been a trick, for all I know. He will just be returning to the mission now.”

“How many men does Buchar have aboard _El Neptuno_?” Diego asks.

“Not many. I don’t know how many men are supposed to be on a ship, but I thought there were very few. Thirty at most.”

“Probably he cannot pay a full crew after Chile,” Alejandro observes to Diego.

“It’s enough men to hold those boys prisoner, though,” he replies.

Suddenly Pilar’s dark eyes glaze with tears and she looks into the unlit fireplace. She shakes her head.

“What else do you need to tell us?” Diego asks.

She bends her face toward her lap and beats her fist against her knee. “I told her to stay at the mission. I didn’t know she had followed me—not until it was too late.”

“Who?”

“Liliana,” Pilar says. “One of my students—no, more than that. She is a Gabrieleña, from my village, and her family died at the same time as mine. We came to the mission together, only she was so much younger, I looked after her like a sister. I’ve always looked after her. Until now.”

“Liliana followed you to the creek?” Diego asks.

“When the sailors bound me, she came screaming out of the brush like Wiyot. I mean, like a demon. I think she would have killed someone if they hadn’t knocked her unconscious. They tied her up and put her in the boat next to me. She’s still there, with them. I couldn’t think how to take her when I escaped. She’s not a strong swimmer.”

“I don’t like to think of a girl left among pirates,” Alejandro says.

“I told them she was called Miguel. She’s only twelve and put on a boy’s tunic to follow me. They don’t know she’s a girl.”

“How did you escape the ship?” Diego asks.

“I cut my bonds with a nail and set a sail on fire. I jumped overboard while they were putting it out.”

“And you swam all the way ashore?” Alejandro asks. “And then walked all the way here?”

“Not all the way,” she says. “Your vaquero let me ride his horse when he met me on the road.”

Alejandro shakes his head incredulously.

Pilar turns from him. “Will you help us, Don Diego?”

“Me?”

“The dons. One person isn’t enough: I found that out myself. Will you help?”

“Do you think he’ll negotiate a ransom?” Diego asks.

“Even if he would,” Alejandro says, “the dons could not pay it. They can’t scrape together the ransom for their own sons, much less…”

“Much less Indians?” Pilar suggests.

“Much less _strangers_ ,” Alejandro says pointedly.

Diego runs a hand through his hair and looks at his father. “Don’t you think the governor could do something?”

“I will inform him of it,” Alejandro says. “At the very least, he should order his fleet not to sink either ship as long as there are captives aboard.”

“I shall write an account of your story for my father to take with him,” Diego says. But his fist opens and closes as if around an invisible sword hilt, and he puts his restless hands behind his back.

“You can do nothing more?” she asks.

Alejandro looks at Diego. “There is nothing I can think of,” he says.

“Gracias, señores,” Pilar replies, her voice cold. “If that is all you can do, I am grateful that you will do it.”

“Pilar,” says Diego, “you must understand: we are the same position as you are.”

One side of her mouth curls into a sad smile. “You are never in the same position as I am, Don Diego. Please excuse me: I must go home.”

“At least let us offer you a ride and an escort,” Diego says. “You cannot walk the whole way.”

“I can and I shall,” she says, and with another bow, she leaves them.

“What a terrifying woman,” Alejandro observes. 

“Please do all you can to help them, Father,” Diego says. “Impress it upon the governor; he won’t think twice about it if you don’t force him to.”

“Of course, of course,” Alejandro says impatiently. “And you—you’ll do all you can too, won’t you?” He swishes his finger in a Z.

“At the earliest opportunity,” Diego promises.

At that moment, in stumbles a sunburnt and jacketless Bernardo.

Diego and his father cry out, then run to catch him by the elbows. They practically carry him to the same chair Pilar has just vacated and Diego pours him some water.

“How did you escape?” Diego asks.

Bernardo holds up a finger for them to wait while he finishes draining the cup.

“Well?”

Bernardo sets the cup on the desk and pantomimes diving into it.

“Two of them!” Alejandro says. “I didn’t know long-distance swimming had become such a popular pastime.”

Bernardo looks hopefully at Diego and raises two fingers.

“Yes,” Diego says, “Pilar from the mission did the same thing.”

Bernardo points to something in the distance and then points to his eye.

“You saw her and it gave you the idea, did it?” Diego says. “Well, you just missed her. She left very disappointed in the efficacy of her don neighbors.” He looks ruefully at his father.

But Bernardo looks immensely satisfied at the news that she is safe.

“I’ll get someone to bring some food,” Alejandro says, and strides off.

“I’m very glad you’re back, Bernardo,” Diego says.

Bernardo clasps his hands over his heart as though he is flattered.

“Yes, yes, I missed you. But more importantly, now that his faithful accomplice has returned, Zorro can finally get to work.”

Bernardo grins, pours himself a cup of wine, and raises a toast.


	8. Episode One: Scene Eight

“Diego!” Alejandro shouts up the patio stairs. “Diego! Benito—I mean, Juan Pablo—go and see if Diego is in the stables. Diego!”

“I’m here, Father,” Diego says, coming out of the sala. “What’s all the commotion?”

“Where have you been?”

“In the sala.” Diego darts a look around the patio. “Or, rather, behind the silver cabinet in the sala, if you see what I mean. Bernardo and I have been planning.”

“Oh, good. Diego, I’ve just gotten word that Sergeant García is taking the ransom money to the pirates.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know,” says Alejandro. “That’s why I want you to go and find out.”

Diego takes a stride toward the stairs, then stops. “Aren’t you coming?”

Alejandro shakes his head. “If this falls through—and let’s face it: if Sergeant García is in charge, the chances are good it will—I still want to ride to intercept the governor. I have more preparations to make if I want to leave by tomorrow morning.”

“I understand, Father. I’ll have the horses saddled.”

“And Diego,” Alejandro says as he starts to head up the stairs, “take a change of clothes, hmm?” He swishes his finger in a Z.

Diego flashes a smile.

A dust trail follows the palomino gelding and his rider as they canter down the path from the hills to the creek mouth. The sun is riding low on the horizon in front of them. When he wades across the creek and comes to a halt on the sandy spit at the edge of the marsh, the palomino looks over his shoulder as though waiting for someone.

“Your compadre isn’t coming tonight, my friend,” Diego says, patting the horse’s neck. “We can’t risk Bernardo being captured a second time. Though he was mightily disappointed when I told him he had to stay behind.” He dismounts and checks his saddle bag: cape, mask, and rapier are present and accounted for; the black hat with silver trim is tied to the saddle. 

The sound of hoof beats come down the path from the pueblo. Quickly, before the riders come into sight, Diego stows the saddlebag and hat under a bush out of the way. He has just returned to tie his horse when Sergeant García trots in on his heavy-boned bay, leading an escort of half a dozen lancers.

“Buenas tardes, Sergeant,” Diego says, coming to hold his horse as he dismounts.

“Buenas tardes, Don Diego. I did not expect to see you here.”

“My father asked me to come and represent the dons.”

“Oh, sí.”

“Are you worried about something, Sergeant? You look very nervous.”

“Nervous? Me? Oh, no, Don Diego. I am never nervous.”

“You looked pretty nervous yesterday during the break-in,” Corporal Reyes volunteers.

“Shut up, Corporal,” García barks.

“You had a break-in?” Diego asks. “At the cuartel?”

García forces a laugh. “A little incident, Don Diego. A bandito.”

“Bandito? You said it was the com—”

“I said shut up, Corporal!” And this time the corporal complies.

“What’s all this gossiping? Are we here to pay a ransom or talk each other to death?”

All three turn to face the tall woman with a hawk-like nose and very un-Spanish features who is coming toward them on a gray mare. “Help me down, Corporal. Do you know how uncomfortable a sidesaddle is?”

Corporal Reyes hurries forward to lift her from her horse.

“Dolores Bastinado, you probably don’t remember me,” she says to Diego.

He takes her gloved hand and kisses her knuckles. “On the contrary, Señorita, I remember you very well. How is your drayage service? And your brother Pogo?”

“Both fine,” she says, “you’re very kind. Getting into trouble in my absence no doubt—both of them.”

“Forgive me, Señorita, but why are you here? Surely a hostage negotiation is no place for a lady.”

“Oh, didn’t the sergeant tell you?” she says. “I’m your lead negotiator.” When Diego doesn’t seem to understand, she leans forward and taps him on the chest with her fan. “It’s my money that’s paying the ransom.”

“Really?” Diego says. “But Señorita, you don’t even know these children.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “What else am I going to do with fifteen hundred pesos, buy another dress? Besides, I found I simply couldn’t say no to the corporal here, he asked so eloquently.” She pats Reyes on the arm and Reyes flushes behind his mustache.

“You asked her, Corporal?” Diego says.

Reyes points to García. “He told me to.”

“Well,” Diego says, turning to García, “I must say, Sergeant, I’m impressed. That was a very good idea.”

“Oh, gracias, Don Diego,” García says uncomfortably. 

“Don’t be sore, Sergeant,” Diego says conspiratorially as the corporal and Dolores move off to see to the horses. He nods toward the señorita. “There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

“Oh, it is not that, Don Diego. It’s just—did you ever know someone who did something bad and then, maybe, did something even worse?”

“What do you mean, Sergeant?”

“Well, that is, er—oh, here they are.”

Two boats are making their way through the surf toward the shore.

“I don’t see Capitán Bouchard,” Diego observes. “I would have thought he would want to be here for the exchange. And are they bringing the children in another boat?”

“No, Don Diego, they’re coming to get _us_ ,” García says.

“What do you mean, Sergeant?”

“Pirata Buchar insists that the exchange take place onboard _La Santa Rosa_. After he has received the money, he will transport us and the children back to shore in the boats. Oh, how I hate boats, Don Diego.”

“I see,” Diego says, glancing at the bush where he has stored his gear. “Surely you’re not taking Señorita Bastinado with you?”

“She insists on coming,” García says resignedly. “Lots of people insist on things in such a business, I am discovering.”

“Well, in that case, let me fetch a rug for her. In case the sea breeze is cold. Please excuse me.” He leaves the sergeant preparing to meet the boats and unstraps the blanket roll from his saddle. Checking that the others are all occupied with pulling the boats ashore, he stashes his cloak, mask, and sword inside the blanket and rolls it back up. The hat won’t fit, so he takes off his own, stacks the black one inside the beige one, and returns the double hat to its position hanging down his back.

“Are you ready, Don Diego?” García calls from the water line.

“Quite ready, Sergeant,” Diego says, joining them at the boats. “Vámonos.”


	9. Episode One: Scene Nine

Sergeant García is green in the face. The boat he occupies with Diego, the corporal, Dolores, and two sailors bobs heavily on the swells. The other boat carrying several lancers rides right behind them.

“Just watch the horizon, Sergeant,” Diego says.

“How can I watch the horizon when it will not sit still?” García moans.

“Are you cold, Señorita?” Corporal Reyes asks, reaching for the blanket roll under the thwart. Diego sits up very straight.

“I’m fine, Corporal. Do you have any idea how many layers this dress has?” Dolores smiles. “But it was very kind of you to ask.”

Diego sits back again.

When they reach _La Santa Rosa_ , the crew on deck winch the boats to the rail and help the passengers aboard.

Most of the crew seems to have turned out for the occasion: trimly uniformed sailors line the far rail, and García, once he has gained his balance, anxiously scans the crowd. When there is no familiar bearded face among them, he visibly relaxes.

“Bienvenidos, Señores,” Buchar says, coming down from the quarterdeck. He is in his full finery, hat on his head and sword at his side. “Y señoritas,” he adds, seeing Dolores. “I did not know we were to be graced with a lady’s presence.” Then he sees Diego. “Welcome back, Don Diego,” he says with much less warmth. “Enjoying the return of your manservant?”

“I’m not going to apologize for his escape if that’s what you mean,” Diego says.

“Yes, well, his tricks have saved you a good deal of money. I hope you’re properly grateful.”

Diego bows stiffly.

“Will you take some refreshment?” Buchar asks, turning to Dolores.

“I think not,” she says. “We’re here to do business, so let’s do business.”

“Oh, Señorita,” he says, “we are not haggling over the sale of pigs. We are gentlemen engaging in diplomacy.” Dolores scoffs, but he ignores her. “I insist. Some wine for you—and, if you will permit me, Sergeant, some ale for your lancers.”

The lancers look hopefully to their acting comandante. Diego shakes his head, but García doesn’t look his way. “Something to drink would, I think, help settle our stomachs,” he says.

Diego closes his eyes in disappointment, but Buchar beams. “The words of a benevolent commander. Cavens, take the lancers below and give them some ale in the galley. Other Cavens, bring up the wine.”

García, Reyes, Dolores, and Diego sit in uncomfortable silence sipping from their cups while the sky turns from pink to deep blue. As the sailors light the lamps, Diego looks across the water to _El Neptuno_ anchored not far off.

“It is a fine lugger, is it not?” Buchar asks.

“Sí,” says Diego. “Though I am surprised you can afford to man two ships after your… _difficulties_ in Chile.”

Buchar fixes him with a keen gaze. “Do not underestimate a navy man’s ingenuity, Señor. You would be surprised at what I can do.”

“On the contrary,” Diego says, “I do not think I would be surprised at all.”

Buchar looks as though he is not certain whether this is a compliment or an insult, but Diego raises his wine glass with a nod of his head and Buchar reluctantly returns the toast.

“This is all very pleasant, I’m sure,” Dolores says, “but can we get back to the business at hand?”

Buchar sighs and puts down his glass. “Very well. You have the payment, I understand?”

“You have the children?” Dolores shoots back.

“But of course.” Buchar snaps his fingers and the turnkey leads the children out of the captain’s quarters.

“Not in the hold anymore, I see,” Diego observes.

“Nothing but the best for my esteemed guests,” Buchar says.

Again Diego inspects the children and finds them unhurt. He nods to Sergeant García, who puts his hand out to the corporal.

Reyes looses a purse from his belt and gives it to the sergeant. García draws himself up to his full height and strides forward to deliver the purse to Buchar. “Fifteen hundred pesos,” he says formally, holding it out.

Buchar takes the purse, weighs it in his palm, then hands it off to his lieutenant. He snaps again and the turnkey herds the children into one of the waiting boats. The lancers come up from the galley and board with the children. 

“There now,” Buchar says pleasantly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

García watches the sailors lower the boat into the water. When it is on its way back to shore, he turns to Buchar and says, “You will not get away with this, you know.”

“Why?” Buchar laughs. “Because the governor is coming? I will be halfway to Chile before he mobilizes his fleet.”

“No,” says García in some confusion. “Because of Señor Zorro.”

Buchar is adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. “And who is Señor Zorro?”

“Why, he is Señor Zorro,” García says helplessly. “Everyone knows Señor Zorro.”

“This may be hard for you to believe, Sergeant, but the goings on in the Pueblo de Los Angeles are not always worldwide news.”

“Zorro is a bandito,” García begins. “Only, he is a bandito who fights other banditos. That is…he is a very good swordsman.”

“So am I,” says Buchar. 

“He is like a ghost,” García adds. “No one has ever caught him.”

“Sounds like a fairy tale,” Buchar says, returning to his cuffs.

“If he is a fairy tale,” says García, “he is a very expensive one.”

Buchar looks up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there is a reward for him,” García explains. “Two thousand pesos.”

“A very expensive fairy tale indeed,” Buchar says thoughtfully.

“Sing him the song, Sergeant,” Corporal Reyes suggests.

“What song?” Buchar asks.

“They have made up a song about him,” Reyes says. “In the pueblo. Sing it for him, Sergeant.”

“I really don’t think—” García begins.

“No, no,” Buchar says. “I am most curious, Sergeant. Please, sing for us.”

The sailors have gathered close for this unexpected entertainment. Diego slips out of the circle of listeners and quietly collects the blanket roll from the boat. He stands there for several moments with the blanket in hand, looking on casually as though he is just as interested in the song as everyone else.

García clears his throat. “Very well, Capitán. It goes like this.” He clears his throat again.

“Out of the night, when the timing is right,

Comes the horseman known as Zorro.

This man of his word carves a Z with his sword,

A Z that stands for Zorro.”

Corporal Reyes begins whistling the accompaniment as García launches into the chorus.

“Zorro, the fox so cunning and brave.

Zorro, the innocent he will save.”

Diego backs into the shadows and lets himself down into the hold.

Belowdecks, no one is about; all the sailors are watching the exchange above. Diego finds a storeroom, whips off his beige jacket, and stashes it behind a barrel.

Back on deck, the sailors break into a smattering of applause when the song concludes. 

“You know, Sergeant,” Buchar says, “‘Word’ and ‘sword’ really don’t rhyme.”

“Well,” says García apologetically, “I expect it is still a work in progress.”

“And he is a horseman, you say.” Buchar grins. “You forget, Sergeant: I live on a boat. I don’t think I need to worry.”

“Oh, Señor Zorro is everywhere,” García says. “No one knows how.”

“Ha,” Buchar barks. “I defy him to magic himself from the shore to my ship.”

“Then allow me to defy you,” a voice calls from the quarterdeck.

All heads turn to look up at the masked figure standing on the rail with his sword in one hand and a rope in the other.

“Señor Zorro!” García cries delightedly.

“And thank you for that excellent introduction, Sergeant,” he says, and swings down from the deck to land squarely in front of Buchar. “En garde!” he cries.

Buchar draws his sword and chaos erupts on the deck. The sailors draw their weapons and throw themselves at García and Reyes, while Buchar advances on Zorro with a grinning sneer on his face.

“Unbeatable swordsman, they say, eh? We shall see.” He strikes the first blow and Zorro parries easily. Zorro thrusts twice at Buchar with lightning speed and the grin disappears from the pirate’s face.

Back and forth they go, and as Zorro continues to parry every attack, Buchar grows rapidly more agitated. When Zorro snaps a gold braid on his jacket with a flick of his sword, Buchar snarls and lunges.

Instead of meeting the attack, Zorro leaps up the steps to the quarterdeck, forcing Buchar to clamber up after him. They fence back and forth in the small space until Zorro ducks around the far side of the helm, and Buchar’s blow drives his sword deep into the ship’s wheel. 

With a grin, Zorro cuts the rope to the rudder and jerks the wheel hard. Buchar’s sword snaps in his hand. He stares at the useless stub of his blade, and then turns his eyes in brief panic to the ship’s bell.

“Go ahead,” Zorro says. “Call the crew of _El Neptuno_ to come to your rescue. I won’t stop you.”

Buchar doesn’t move.

“Or is it,” Zorro suggests, “that you can’t call them because they won’t come? Not enough men to mount an attack and guard your prisoners at the same time?” He clucks his tongue. “Short-sighted, capitán, very short-sighted.”

With another snarl, Buchar pulls a dagger from his belt and aims a blow at Zorro’s head. Zorro catches the blade on his own and presses close to Buchar’s red face.

“García is right, you know,” he says quietly. “You won’t get away with it.” He glances at _El Neptuno_. “Any of it.”

Buchard pushes Zorro away, throws down his knife, and draws a pistol.

Zorro grabs a line and swings back down to the main deck. Buchar’s shot goes wide of its mark and he pursues Zorro on foot.

Meanwhile, García and Reyes face the onslaught of sailors, standing back to back with their swords raised. “I think there are too many of them,” Reyes suggests over his shoulder.

“That is not helpful, Corporal,” García says.

Suddenly a heavy roll of sail comes swinging across the deck from the yard arm and scatters the sailors in its path, sweeping four of them into the sea. As they stand stupefied, a second furled sail swings through and takes out another half dozen.

Reyes and García look in the opposite direction and see Dolores standing there with a knife in one fist and frayed ropes at her feet. “What?” she says. “I was just supposed to stand here ringing my hands?”

Encouraged by the improved odds, García and Reyes launch into the fray. They fight their way across the deck and find themselves almost back to back with Zorro, who is once again facing Buchar, the pirate now armed with a new sword. Zorro glances over his shoulder and sees the soldiers behind him.

“Duck, Sergeant!” he shouts, and García ducks just in time to avoid a blow from a saber.

“Gracias, Señor!” García calls.

“Wait a minute, Sergeant,” Reyes says over the din as he parries the thrusts of an attacker. “Are we on Zorro’s side now?”

García flinches as a sailor aims three rapid blows at him that he barely manages to fend off. “At the moment, Corporal, we are on the side of whoever isn’t trying to kill us.”

Buchar’s swordplay has grown fiercer and fiercer as Zorro continues to thwart his attacks. He throws himself forward in a series of thrusts so quick the eye can scarcely follow them. Zorro parries each but gives way before Buchar’s fury, backing swiftly across the deck.

Suddenly, there is no more deck beneath his feet, and he falls backward into the hold. He only just manages to twist in the air and seize the edge of the hatch as he falls, swinging down into the belly of the ship. Buchar fires another pistol down after him but does not follow him into the dark.

“You can’t hide in there forever,” he calls down. “I am waiting, Señor.”

Belowdecks, Zorro looks left and right, seeking an escape. He runs down the narrow passage and finds himself in the galley. Seeing no way out, he turns around, but as he does so he catches a glimpse of a boot sticking out of the larder. Going to investigate, he discovers the half-dozen lancers bound and gagged and in only their shirtsleeves. He looks to the deck above him, his eyes registering alarm behind their mask. 

One of the lancers shouts behind his gag at the sight of the cuartel’s great nemesis. The shouting on deck grows louder as the fight turns against García and Reyes. Zorro looks hard at the lancers and lays his sword at one’s breast.

“It’s a topsy-turvy day,” he says to them. “Zorro has come to rescue the lancers, and the lancers are going to rescue their commanding officer.” He slits the bonds of the first soldier with the edge of his sword. “Don’t get used to it,” he warns. 

While the unarmed lancers hurry off in search of weapons in the hold, Zorro heads the opposite direction down the passage and pauses at a series of doors. He tries each one, looking for an exit and finding none. At the third room, he stumbles upon a man standing with his back to the door, looking out the narrow porthole. The man whirls, draws his sword, and Zorro parries his first rapid strike.

They exchange a series of blows in the dark until the stranger throws his weight behind his stroke and his blade locks with Zorro’s. As Zorro braces himself to throw off his attacker, they shift stance and the light from the porthole falls on the stranger’s familiar bearded face.

Zorro’s eyes grow wide. But almost immediately he rallies, throws him off, and backs out of the room before Monastario has time to regain his balance. Zorro pulls the door closed and thrusts a broom handle through the ring on the latch. The latch rattles madly, but the broom handle doesn’t give.

Zorro stands with his back to the door for a few seconds, shaking his head as though to clear it. When he has collected himself, he returns, with a single disbelieving glance over his shoulder at the locked room, to his search for an exit. 

He continues down the passage, but he stops short when he spots the open door to the ship’s treasury. He grins.

After this brief detour, he continues on his way and discovers the canons with their mouths aimed out of narrow portholes in the side of the ship. He casts about on the floor and finds a pyramid of cannonballs the size of a man’s fist. With one of these, he smashes the lock on the chain that holds a cannon in place and rolls the gun away from the porthole. Then he grabs a coil of thin rope and ties one end into a noose. Looping the coil on his arm, he lets himself out of the porthole and braces his back against the sill, leaning out backwards over the open water.

Suspended there and looking up at the rail above him, he uncoils his rope and tosses the lasso onto the deck. As he draws it back, it does not catch and simply falls back on him. Trying again, he tosses it a little to the left. This time, as he draws it back, the loop catches on a rain barrel and the rope goes taught. He slips the rest of the way out of the porthole and climbs the rope to the rail.

The battle is not going well for García and Reyes. Dolores, having run out of sails to cut loose, has armed herself with a belaying pin and thumps sailors on the head when they get near her, but there are simply too many of them for three people. García and Reyes have been backed into the bow of the ship and are surrounded by a dozen of the enemy.

Buchar is still prowling around the hatch, waiting for Zorro to reappear. Swinging over the rail and landing lightly on the deck, Zorro re-coils his lasso and starts it swinging. Suddenly Buchar stumbles backward with a cry, and at the same moment Zorro tosses his lasso neatly around the capitán’s shoulders, the freshly armed lancers burst out of the hold and join the fray.

While the sailors turn on the unexpected attackers, Zorro loops the free end of his rope over the yard arm and hoists a shouting Buchar high into the air. He secures the rope and leaves the capitán swinging and spinning fifteen feet above the deck.

With the odds nearly even and the lancers fresh to the fight, the battle is over in minutes.

“You are all under arrest in the name of his majesty the king!” Sergeant García shouts.

“No time for that, Sergeant!” Zorro calls from the rail. “You’ve been double-crossed. The children’s escort are all Buchar’s men. Back to shore, all of you, and quickly!”

“Bind these sailors, lancers,” García says. “You heard what he said. Hurry up!”

“And now we’re taking orders from Zorro,” Corporal Reyes observes, but he does what García says.

“And you,” Zorro calls up to Buchar, “let this be a lesson to you.” He reaches into his belt and pulls out both purses—Alejandro’s and the sergeant’s—and holds them high for Buchar to see.

The pirate captain struggles against the ropes holding him, but even if he could free himself, it would be a dangerous drop to the deck below. Zorro laughs and tosses the purses down at García’s feet. “I trust you know what to do with these, Sergeant,” he says.

García looks down in surprise, but when he looks up to thank Señor Zorro, the Fox is nowhere to be seen.

While the lancers are occupied and Buchar has spun helplessly around so his back is to him, Zorro has dropped back into the hold. Quickly, he changes back into the beige suit and bundles his black gear back into the blanket roll. 

Returning to the porthole, he climbs partway out, tosses the blanket into the boat that hangs from the rail not far away, then looks resignedly down at the cold black water. With a sigh, he lets go of the porthole and falls into the sea.

On deck, the lancers have succeeded in binding the sailors so they will not interfere in the rescue mission. “Quick,” García says. “To the boats now!”

“But where is Don Diego?” Corporal Reyes asks.

García stops and looks around in bafflement.

“Help! Help!” comes a cry from the water.

García and Reyes rush to the rail and look down into the dark. Just visible in the lamplight, Diego’s face looks back at them.

“Launch the boats!” García orders the lancers. “Ándale, ándale!”

Minutes later, the two boats drop into the waves and García’s rows over to where Diego splutters and treads water. Clumsily, they haul him aboard.

“What have you been doing all this time?” Diego gasps. “Someone knocked me over the rail and I’ve been calling for help for an hour.”

“I am sorry, Don Diego,” García says. “Lancers, row for shore. I shall explain on the way.”

By the time they reach the sand, Diego has heard the account of everything he already knows. The pirates’ boat is drawn up on the shore and tracks lead away into the hills.

“I must ride after the children,” García explains, getting gratefully out of the boat and planting his feet on solid ground. “Will you come with us, Don Diego?”

“I’m afraid I’m in no state for it,” Diego says, gesturing at his dripping clothes. “I shall ride to the pueblo and alert the rest of the soldiers in the cuartel.”

“Thank you, Don Diego,” García says.

“No need for that,” says Dolores. “I shall alert the garrison. You go home, Diego. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

Diego runs a hand through his wet hair in a show of reluctance. Finally he bows. “Gracias, Señorita. I shall do as you say.”

He fiddles with his saddle until the soldiers mount and ride into the hills and Dolores trots off toward the road. Then unstrings his hat from his shoulders and pulls the black one out of the beige one, ruefully shaking seawater off its brim. He jogs back to the boat, grabs the blanket, and pulls the cape, mask, and sword from the roll. With a glance around to see he is not observed, he slips once more into the brush.


	10. Episode One: Scene Ten

In the bluish light of a crescent moon, five children and half a dozen pirates are marching north through the low hills above the coastline. 

“I’m tired,” complains one of the boys.

“Shut up,” comes the response. 

“How much farther?” the boy whines.

“Two miles,” the pirate says. “Even a baby can make that. Be quiet.”

“Where are you taking us?” another asks.

“To the rendezvous point,” the pirate says, imitating the boy’s whining tone. 

“I thought you were taking us home,” he says.

“We lied.”

“Cheer up, boys,” another says. “You’re about to become sailors. Or slaves. Your choice.”

One of the boys sniffles.

“I said shut up!”

One of the sailors turns and looks over his shoulder. “Do you hear horses?”

“At this time of night?” says the other.

“No, listen.”

The group pauses and the sailors look back up the hill they have come down. Just cresting the ridge is a barrel-chested soldier on a heavy-boned horse, and at his elbow is a smaller soldier on an appropriately smaller mount.

“We have to get out of here!” the sailor says.

The men start to drive the children along as fast as their legs can carry them, but one sailor hangs back.

“What are you doing?” another asks. “Hurry up!”

“Tell the others to go on,” he says, “then you come back here.” He unslings his rifle from his back and grins. “There are only two of them.”

“Sergeant, I think I see them!” Corporal Reyes says, pointing a gloved hand at the next ridge.

The moonlight shows the small forms of the children surrounded by men, pushing them along with the butts of their rifles and lances.

“Hurry, Corporal!” García shouts, and spurs his horse down the hill.

Seconds later, a palomino with a rider all in black steps into the valley between the two hills. Taking the flat coastal route, Zorro has outstripped the sergeant on his lumbering horse. He dismounts, takes his bull whip from the saddle, and leaves the palomino in the shelter of a tree. The hollow is overgrown with brush and cottonwoods, and in their shadows, Zorro catches the small, furtive movements of men laying an ambush. Glancing up the hill where even now the sounds of galloping horses reach the valley, Zorro slips silently into the dark under the trees.

The two sailors crouch behind the bushes with their rifles at the ready, waiting for the sergeant and the corporal to barrel up the path right past them. As the hoof beats grow closer, the men tense and nod to each other, confirming their readiness.

Suddenly, a single drop of water falls onto the hand of one of the sailors. He stares at it for a second, then looks up to see a great bat-like form dropping down on him from the overhanging tree limb. He doesn’t even have time to cry out before Zorro knocks him unconscious with the pommel of his sword.

The other sailor falls backward in surprise and when he tries to fire his rifle at the attacker, it jams. He rattles the bolt frantically while Zorro sheathes his sword, uncurls his whip, and lightly snaps the rifle out of his hands with a single crack. A second snap of the whip curls around the sailor’s ankles, and Zorro pulls him forward, hand over hand. Sergeant García and Corporal Reyes thunder past, none the wiser.

“Who are you?” the sailor stammers as Zorro ties him to his unconscious companion.

Zorro steps back and slashes a Z into the breast of the stolen lancer’s uniform. “Go back to your capitán and show him that. I think he will understand.”

Having secured the two sailors, Zorro hurries back to his horse, wipes another drip of sea water from the brim of his hat, and takes off once more in the direction of the captive children. But here the beach ends in an impassable tumble of rocks, and he must climb back up into the hills. 

By the time the palomino reaches the elevated path, Sergeant García’s horse has grown weary, and the two soldiers are moving more and more slowly. Zorro comes out onto the trail almost at their heels, and at the sound of hooves behind them, Corporal Reyes turns to look back.

“What is it?” the sergeant asks.

“Nothing, I guess,” Reyes says, surveying the deserted road behind them.

Zorro watches them go from the shelter of a boulder. “I think I must leave you here, my friend,” he says softly to the palomino. “Even the sergeant might get suspicious if he sees Zorro riding Don Diego’s horse. I’ll come back for you soon.”

He strikes out on foot, keeping to the ridge above the road. He quickly overtakes and passes García and Reyes as they labor up yet another hill, but by the time he comes within sight of the children, they are already being herded into a boat drawn up on a stretch of sand. 

He takes one running stride toward them, but he skids to a halt when he finds his foot inches from a sheer drop of thirty feet. Between him and the beach is a deep ravine, and he can only watch helplessly at the sailors force the children aboard. He looks desperately up the road, but García and Reyes are too far back to arrive before the boat launches.

As the last of the five boys climbs in, a pistol shot sounds from the hill beyond Zorro’s cliff. All eyes turn to gape at a figure glowing in the moonlight, wrapped in a white cape on a perfectly white horse.

The horse rears up, and as the rider throws his head back, the moonlight catches a white mask under the white hat. The second the horse’s front feet touch the earth again, he hurtles down the hill toward the beach, his rider stowing the pistol and drawing a flashing sword.

“It’s Zorro!” one of the boys cries.

“It can’t be Zorro—Zorro wears black,” says another.

“It’s a ghost!” shouts a third.

The word is picked up not only by the children but by the sailors too. When one fires a rifle shot with a shaking hand and the rider neither flinches nor slows his descent, they throw down their arms and scatter.

Phantom leaps from the foot of the hill onto the beach, landing among the fleeing sailors like a dog into the middle of a flock of pigeons. The horse races around, giving each sailor a taste of being pursued by a vengeful spirit. While the white Zorro pursues one sailor, another races back to the boat.

“Out, out!” he shouts at the boys, who obey him with alacrity. The second they are out of the boat, the sailor launches it into the water and leaps aboard. He scrambles to the oars and begins to row himself away from the shore.

Another, trying to rise from the sand where he has fallen in his flight from the mad stallion, spots the retreating boat and gives a shout. Soon all the sailors are shouting, abandoning their attempts to escape inland and fighting each other to be first into the water. Phantom charges after them, driving the last of them into the sea. They splash after the boat and nearly swamp it as they struggle to scramble aboard, but in the end they all clamber in and row with the speed of terror into the night.

At that moment, García and Reyes round the bend onto the beach. They stop dead, staring at the white apparition in front of them, but their consternation is interrupted when the boys come running up to their horses, all shouting explanations at once.

García looks open-mouthed from the children to the white Zorro and back, and the white Zorro rears up, waves, and gallops off, back up the hill.

“Do you want me to chase him, Sergeant?” Reyes offers without enthusiasm.

“What’s the use, Corporal?” García says. “You will never catch a ghost.”

The white horse slows to a canter when he crests the hill and drops out of sight of the beach. He idles along, crossing the ravine where it has narrowed to a mere crack in the rock, when suddenly into his path steps a figure all in black.

For a second the white Zorro and the black stare at each other, and then the black one bursts out laughing.

“How long have you been waiting to pull that trick, Bernardo?” he asks.

Bernardo throws his hat back and pulls of his mask, beaming.

Zorro comes forward and takes hold of the bridle. “Leave Phantom here and we’ll go get my horse. It will be quicker if we go back to the hacienda this way.”

Bernardo dismounts, gestures for Phantom to stay, and Zorro puts his arm around his shoulder as they walk back to where the palomino is waiting.

“So Zorro is a ghost now, too,” he observes, “as well as a fox. His legend grows.”

Bernardo puts his hand inside his jacket and puffs up his chest in a Napoleon pose. He points out toward _La Santa Rosa_ , then makes a frightened face.

“I don’t know if Bouchard will be afraid,” Zorro says, “but he will certainly be impressed, and that’s just as good. This isn’t over, Bernardo. I’m certain of it.” He takes the white mask from Bernardo’s hand. “This will teach me to tell you to stay at home, eh?”

Bernardo gives him an innocent look, then hurries forward to gather the reins of the palomino, who pricks his ears up at their coming. When he looks back over Zorro’s shoulder, his mouth drops open. Zorro turns to see Phantom a dozen yards back, sneaking up on them as he follows.

“Well,” he laughs. “At least one of them knows how to stay where he’s told.”


	11. Episode Two: The Fox’s Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week: Zorro crosses swords with an old acquaintance. Will he be able to rescue the governor’s daughter, or will another man’s thirst for revenge lead to disaster? Find out in this week’s episode of…Zorro!

Scene One

Buchar stalks back and forth across the deck of _La Santa Rosa_ in the early morning light, glaring at his sailors as they nurse their wounds and clear away the mess of the skirmish.

“Are you certain you do not want to wrap your ankle, Capitán?” the lieutenant asks him. “You came down on it rather hard when we cut you down.”

“Yes, I’m certain!” he barks, and the lieutenant cringes away. Then his glare turns to a thoughtfully scheming look, and he snaps his fingers to bring the lieutenant back. “Bring me that bearded Angeleno.”

A few minutes later, Monastario is seated across from Buchar in the captain’s quarters, warily accepting the glass of wine that Buchar pours for him.

“You have a history with this Señor Zorro, do you not, Monastario?” Buchar begins, pouring for himself as well.

“What makes you say that?”

“He locked you in the crew’s quarters with a broom handle. That sounds personal to me.”

Monastario doesn’t answer.

“You’ve proven yourself useful, Monastario, in the matter of the letter you delivered,” Buchar goes on. “True, you didn’t quite get away unseen, but you got into the cuartel and into the comandante’s personal office, and that is something. So I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

Buchar beckons and Monastario leans forward, still wary. Buchar leans across the table and says in a low voice, “I’m going to capture Zorro.”

Monastario’s face is studiously blank. “You will not be the first to try that.”

“But I will be the last. Zorro has cost me a fortune, so he is going to make me a new one.”

“How, may I ask?”

Buchar stands up and paces the small room. “You know the governor is touring the presidios, no?”

Monastario nods.

“I had planned to set sail before he arrives in Los Angeles, but now I think we shall wait to give him a proper welcome.”

“Is that wise, Capitán? What about the fleet?”

Buchar smiles. “You see, just an hour ago I learned a very interesting thing. The fleet is already deployed. Some trade dispute north of Monterey. The only force the governor has at his disposal is his personal escort and that fat sergeant.”

Monastario grunts.

“I learned another interesting thing from the same scout. Would you like to know it? The governor’s daughter Leonar is traveling with him on his tour.”

“So your plan is…?”

Buchar’s smile widens. “Zorro is going to kidnap the governor’s daughter and hold her for ransom.”

Monastario starts, but Buchar goes on without acknowledging his surprise. “Once the ransom is paid and the girl is released, the forces of Capitán Bouchard will capture the culprit and turn him in for the reward. The governor will be only too happy to enrich the gallant foreign captain who has made Spanish California safe again, and I would not be surprised if we gain a Spanish letter of marque in addition to a pardon.”

“How, precisely, will you induce Zorro to kidnap the governor’s daughter?” Monastario asks.

Buchar waves a hand dismissively. “I won’t, of course. One of my men will do it. Van Horn is about the right build for the job, don’t you think?”

Monastario strokes his beard. “I do. And when the real Zorro shows up to clear his name, which of course he will…”

“Well, Monastario, that’s where you come in. I want you to be the one to capture him. You know the area and you know the bandito. Bring me Zorro and I’ll make you captain of _El Neptuno_. That’s a good step up from third mate, no?” He sticks out his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

Monastario’s eyes take on an eager glint. He rises and takes Buchar’s hand. “We have a deal.”

Buchar looks dreamily into the distance, puffing out his chest. “And Hippolyte Bouchard will go down in the history of Los Angeles as the man who brought down the great Señor Zorro.”

Monastario’s face darkens. “Of course, mi capitán.”


	12. Episode Two: Scene Two

Alejandro is once again flying about the hacienda packing. Diego follows him into the sala. 

“Did I tell the servants to bring wine?” Alejandro asks him.

“Twice. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Alejandro pauses and looks at his son. “I’m sure, Diego. Now that the dons’ children are safe, it’s a matter of getting that pirate captured.”

“And rescuing the Gabrieleños he’s kidnapped,” Diego reminds him.

“Sí, sí, that too. But if the rumors are true that the fleet has been sent north, it is all the more urgent that I intercept the governor and get him to call them back before Buchar sails for South America. And that is a job one old man can do. Zorro may be needed here.”

“He often is,” Diego sighs.

Alejandro takes his sword from the mantle and straps it around his waist. “And while I’m gone, Diego, I want you to think about something.”

Diego’s looks grows wary. “Yes? And what is that?”

“I want you to think about settling down.”

“Not this again, Father!”

“Yes, this again. I know your situation is complicated, my son, but there are dozens of pretty señoritas in Los Angeles, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t be married to one. Just in the short time since you returned from Spain, there’s been Magdalena Francisco—”

“She was working for the Eagle, Father!”

Alejandro stops. “Oh. Did I know that?”

“Not at the time, I think.”

He nods. “Then there was Rosalita Cortez—”

“Who decided I was a coward: the price of keeping my secret.”

“And then Anna María Verdugo.”

“Whom, you will recall, _you_ convinced me to give up. For the sake of the people, you said: it was a choice between Anna María and Zorro. _You_ wanted me to choose Zorro.”

“And at the time I was right,” Alejandro insists. “But I’m not going to live forever. It’s time to think about the future. I want a grandson to carry on the de la Vega name. And you’re not getting any younger yourself.”

“Why, thank you, Father!”

“You know what I mean,” Alejandro huffs.

Diego sighs and pats his arm. “While you are gone, I promise I will spend all my spare time contemplating the joys of domestic bliss.”

Alejandro gives him a look and then bends to fasten spurs to his boots. When his back is turned, Diego opens his hands beseechingly at the ceiling.

Alejandro stands back up and Diego quickly arranges his face. “You’re dressed for riding,” Alejandro observes. “Where are you off to?”

“Bernardo and I are going to the mission to see Padre Felipe. I want to know if he has heard anything from Bouchard about his captives.”

“Well, I’ll be gone before you return.”

“Safe travels, Father,” Diego says, shaking Alejandro’s hand.

“You too,” says Alejandro. “I suspect things will be more dangerous here than on the road.”


	13. Episode Two: Scene Three

Diego and Bernardo trot side-by-side into the courtyard of the San Gabriel mission. The place has a deserted feel to it with its diminished population, and the few Gabrieleños who are going about their work cast wary glances at the newcomers.

“That is Sergeant García’s horse,” Diego observes to Bernardo. “Why is he alone? I hope nothing has happened.”

They tether their horses next to the heavy-set bay and are escorted into the convento to wait for Padre Felipe. García is already seated at the table, drinking a glass of wine. Bernardo takes a seat on a bench along the wall.

“Well, Sergeant,” Diego observes as he sits down next to him and pours a glass of wine, “there seems to be no emergency. I was worried when I saw you’d come without the corporal.” He hands the wine back to Bernardo, then pours another glass for himself.

“No, no emergency, Don Diego,” García agrees. “Padre Felipe asked me to come. It seems the dons’ children weren’t the only ones El Pirata Buchar has kidnapped.”

“Ah, so Pilar made it back here with the report after all.”

“I came alone because Corporal Reyes is escorting Señorita Bastinado back to her home. She asked him to.” García sighs. “I do not understand her at all, Don Diego.”

Diego shares a look of amusement with Bernardo while García is examining the inside of his wine glass. 

“Don Diego,” says Padre Felipe, entering from an inner door. “It is good to see you. Sergeant, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Diego rises to shake the Franciscan priest’s hand. “I came to inquire about Inocente. I heard he was injured in the raid.”

“They tell me he was badly disoriented when he woke,” Felipe reports, “but he is resting now, and I think he will recover.”

“That is good news.”

“You have heard, Sergeant, of our troubles?”

“A little,” García says, “but I will need to know more for the official report.”

The padre begins an account of the pirate raid, but while he talks, Bernardo plucks at Diego’s sleeve and jerks his head toward the window. Pilar is standing stone-still in the courtyard outside, gazing at the convento.

“Forgive me, Padre,” Diego says, “but there is someone outside I need to speak to. Con permiso.” He rises and beckons for Bernardo to follow.

“Buenos días, Pilar,” Diego says when he reaches her. “I’m glad to see you made it back safely. This is my manservant, Bernardo.”

Bernardo waggles his fingers and smiles.

“You inspired him to escape from _La Santa Rosa_ the same way you did from _El Neptuno_.”

She gives a small smile and bows to him. “I am glad.”

“He can neither speak nor hear,” Diego explains, “but he understands a great deal.”

“I know how that feels,” she says, still addressing Bernardo. “When I came here, I could neither understand nor speak your language. You learn to use your other senses.”

“Indeed,” Diego says, surprised. Then he returns to business. “Padre Felipe is in there now making a report to the sergeant about what happened.”

She looks at him shrewdly. “And what can the sergeant do?”

“Has the padre received any communication from Bouchard? Any offer to ransom the boys back?”

“None,” she says.

Diego sighs. “Then I’m afraid there’s very little the sergeant can do without the governor’s ships.”

Pilar looks away.

“But my father is riding for the governor as we speak,” Diego offers.

“The governor has not proven himself a great friend of my people in the past,” Pilar points out.

“I am sorry for it,” Diego says. “But this time he has the added motivation of capturing a notorious pirate into the bargain.”

“But will he be in time to save the boys? To save Liliana?” Pilar asks.

“That I do not know.” When Pilar continues to gaze fixedly away from him, he shifts uncomfortably and says, “Pilar, if you like, I will go to Bouchard and offer a ransom for the children.”

She looks at him, eyes wide with cautious hope. “Do you think he will take it?”

“That I don’t know. But if it means avoiding a battle with the Spanish fleet, he might.”

Pilar nods. “Gracias, Don Diego.” Then she turns her head toward the hills beyond the mission and her face grows grave again. “But he may not accept your offer. So in the meantime, I know what I must do.”

“What is that?”

Instead of answering, Pilar points to García and the padre just coming through the door into the yard. “Your sergeant is finished with his report,” she says.

The three of them walk back to the convento. 

“You will do everything you can, won’t you?” Padre Felipe says to the sergeant. “I know my order is not without its sins against the Gabrieleños, but to me they are my only family. Those boys are like my children, Sergeant. The only children I have.”

García fidgets his fingers in discomfort. “We will do everything we can,” he promises. “As soon…as we figure out what that is.”

He nods to Don Diego and shuffles off to his bay gelding.

“Padre, may I borrow a horse?” Pilar asks when he is gone.

“That is most irregular, Pilar,” the priest says.

“These are irregular times.”

“The bishop would not like to hear of me giving horses to mission Indians,” he says.

“You said we are like your children, Padre. If your child asked for bread, would you give him a stone?”

Felipe smiles. “Too clever by half. You see, Don Diego? She beats me at chess too. Take a horse, Pilar, but take care, child. Take care.”

She bows and hurries away. Padre Felipe watches her go, the fond amusement in his face slowly turning to wistfulness.

“I think she’s not coming back, Diego,” he sighs. “Some of them don’t find a home here, as much as I want them to. Pilar is one of those. Pilar and Liliana. I wish I could do better for them than I can. Will you look after them, my son, as much as you may?”

“If they will let me,” Diego says. “I am going now to negotiate with Bouchard. I will send word if I am successful—or if I hear anything from my father about the governor. Con permiso, Padre.”

He jogs over to his palomino and unhitches him from the rail. Bernardo follows and frees the dun gelding, raising his eyebrows in question.

“We can at least find out where she’s going,” Diego says. 

They mount up just as Pilar rides out from the stables. Her gray skirt is gathered around her knees so that she can sit astride the mare instead of sidesaddle. She gives Diego a look of surprise as he and Bernardo join her.

“Permit me to escort you as far as our roads lie together,” he says.

She shrugs. “If you wish. But keep up.” And she lopes off at a quick canter.

Diego and Bernardo exchange a look and hurry after her.


	14. Episode Two: Scene Four

Sergeant García is halfway back to the pueblo when the road dips down through a narrow gorge littered with large, weathered boulders. His horse plods along in their shadow until a sharp sound makes him stop.

“That sounded like my name,” García observes to the horse.

The shout comes again, echoing on the stone.

“That was definitely my name. Hello? Who is calling me? Hello?”

Out from behind a boulder steps Monastario. No longer in his sailor’s uniform, he wears a loose shirt and riding breeches. His sword is at his side, but he has not drawn it.

“Buenos días, Sergeant,” he says.

“Comandante!” García bursts out. He scrambles down from the horse and salutes.

“At ease, soldier.”

García sheepishly puts his salute away. “What are you doing here, Comandante?”

“I followed you from the cuartel. I need to speak with you.”

“Technically, Capitán, I am supposed to arrest you.”

Monastario smiles. “I have a better idea. How would you like a promotion, Sergeant?”

“Oh, sí, Capitán! Only…would I have to become a pirate to get it?”

“Not at all. You only need to tell me everything you know about the visit of the governor. Where he will be, where he is staying, how long he is staying there.”

“Forgive me, Comandante, but I don’t see how that leads to a promotion.”

“It is very simple,” Monastario says, laying his finger on the sergeant’s chest conspiratorially. “Zorro is planning to kidnap the governor’s daughter. And we are going to catch him doing it.”

García’s eyes slowly light up. “Sí, Comandante. That sounds like a promotion! But why would Zorro kidnap the governor’s daughter?”

Monastario shrugs impatiently. “He is a bandito. He has always been a bandito. It is what banditos do.”

García looks dubious.

“Think of your cut of the reward, Sergeant. Say, ten percent?”

García raises his eyebrows. “Fifteen?”

“Five,” says Monastario.

“Eight,” García counters.

“Done!”

García beams.

“Now,” says Monastario, “tell me everything.”

“This is where I leave you,” Pilar says, pulling up where a narrow trail branches off from the road at the mouth of the gorge.

Diego looks around dubiously at the bare hills as far as the eye can see. “In the middle of the wilderness?”

She smiles. “To you it is wilderness. To me it is home. Adiós, Don Diego.”

He and Bernardo watch her go, and they are just preparing to continue on their way when Bernardo puts a hand on Diego’s arm. He cups his other hand behind his ear.

Diego rises in his stirrups, looking down the gorge they are about to enter. “Voices?” He swings down from his horse and points to the gorge rim not far above them.

Bernardo dismounts and follows Diego up onto the rocks. Crouching low, they creep along above the road until they can peer down into the hollow on Sergeant García and a dark-haired accomplice. Bernardo blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again, then tugs Diego’s sleeve. He traces a mustache and goatee around his mouth and scowls.

Diego nods and whispers, “Monastario.” Bernardo shakes his head in disbelief and looks down again. The voices rise up faintly from below, but the wind coming up the gorge carries away the words. Diego signals for them to return to the horses.

“Monastario is obviously up to something,” Diego says when they arrive. “I wish we could have heard what they were saying.”

Bernardo raises his eyebrows in question and swishes his finger in a Z.

Diego shakes his head. “I didn’t bring it. How was I to know?”

Bernardo grins and turns up the flap on his saddle to reveal the pommel of Zorro’s sword. He opens the saddlebag and a fold of black cloak peeps out.

Diego laughs quietly. “Maybe I didn’t know, but you did. Quick, take the horses off the road and keep them under cover.”

“You’re sure she has only a single guard and a lady’s maid?” Monastario asks.

“Sí, Comandante,” García says. “That is all they sent word to arrange housing for.”

“Excellent.”

“Excellent, Comandante?”

Monastario recalls himself. “Zorro will not fear to strike when she is so lightly guarded. When he does, we will be ready. And _I_ will go down in the history of Los Angeles as the man who brought down the great Señor Zorro.”

“And so will I!” adds García.

“Is that so, Señores?” comes a voice from above. 

They look up as a black figure in a fluttering cape drops from the wall and lands squarely in front of them.

“Zorro!” shouts García, scuttling to the other side of the narrow passage and drawing his saber.

Monastario’s rapier is already in his hand. The flame of old hatred burns in his eyes.

“I’ll cut him off at the head of the gorge,” García offers, turning to go.

“Stay where you are, Sergeant,” Monastario says. He makes no move to engage his enemy.

Zorro rises from his fighting stance. “Come now, Monastario. This is not like you. Not willing to cross swords with Zorro? It’s enough to make one think you are up to something.”

García takes a hesitant step forward.

“I said stay where you are, Sergeant,” Monastario says through gritted teeth.

“But Comandante,” García objects, “if we capture him now, he cannot kidnap the governor’s daughter.”

Monastario closes his eyes and Zorro laughs.

“It’s me who’s up to something, is it? Does that really sound like Zorro, Sergeant? Kidnapping?”

“Well, I’m sure you have a good reason,” García says apologetically.

“Come, Monastario,” Zorro continues. “We barely saw each other last night. We cannot meet after all this time and not greet one another properly.” He leaps forward and strikes his sword twice against Monastario’s in quick succession.

Monastario parries both strokes, but his restraint snaps at the same time and he repays the attack with interest. Zorro sweeps his cape over his forearm and grins.

They fence back and forth in the narrow space, García doing his best to keep out of the way of their rapid movements. The sound of blade striking blade echoes off the stone walls. Zorro catches Monastario off balance and pushes him onto the back foot. Strike and parry, strike and parry, Zorro slowly backs Monastario into a corner.

“Don’t just stand there, baboso!” Monastario shouts at García. “Do something!”

“But do something for which side, Sergeant?” Zorro says over the metallic strikes. “The pirate or the bandito—it seems you must make a choice.”

García shifts from one foot to the other, following the bout like a tennis match, and makes no decision.

When Monastario feels the gorge wall at his back, he redoubles his attack and manages to get his foot on the shoulder of a great stone. Striking at Zorro with one hand and guiding himself with his other on the wall, he backs up onto the boulder until he is standing well above his opponent. With a final vicious blow, he knocks Zorro’s blade to the side and launches himself like a diver off the stone, tackling his enemy and bringing them both crashing to the ground.

For the first time, Zorro has lost control of the engagement. His blade rolls out of reach and Monastario’s sword is pressed to his throat. Zorro clamps both gloved hands on the rapier blade, but Monastario has all his weight against it, his knees on Zorro’s chest. The two are locked in place, inches from each other’s eyes.

“García,” Monastario growls. “His sword!”

As if in a trance, García steps over to where Zorro’s rapier lies in the grass and picks it up.

“Yield,” Monastario snarls in Zorro’s face. “Yield!”

Suddenly a knife blade appears out of nowhere and slides under Monastario’s chin.

“You yield,” says a voice behind him.

In surprise, Monastario releases the pressure on Zorro’s neck and raises his hands.

“Drop the sword,” Pilar says, “and get off him.”

With the knife still pressed to Monastario’s throat, she pulls him up and pushes him several paces away from Zorro, who takes a moment to recover from the unexpected turn of events.

“On your knees,” she says, and Monastario kneels.

García takes a step toward her with Zorro’s sword half raised, but Pilar presses the knife harder against the flesh under Monastario’s chin and he makes a strangled noise. García stops.

“Drop your saber and return his sword,” Pilar says, nodding her head to Zorro, who is on his feet again. García obeys, turning the rapier around to give it back grip first. When the sword leaves his hands, García breathes a sigh of relief.

“I suppose you’ll want to tie us up now,” he says.

“Back to back, please,” Pilar replies.

Now that Zorro is rearmed, Pilar removes her blade from Monastario’s throat and the two of them bind the sergeant and his former capitán back to back in the middle of the road.

When Zorro doesn’t find a quip to offer, Pilar says, “Don’t worry. It won’t be long until someone finds you. With any luck, it won’t be someone you know.”

She turns and leads Zorro back up the gorge. As they go, García shakes his head. “What a terrifying woman,” he says.

Monastario doesn’t reply, only staring at her retreating form.

“But cheer up, Comandante,” García goes on. “She took the sword, but she didn’t know about the knife in my boot. I shall cut us free in no time.” He tries to reach for his boot and only succeeds in jerking Monastario’s arms. He raises his foot and shakes it, but the knife handle only jostles and doesn’t fall. He shakes it harder. “Just—give me—a little—minute,” he grunts.

Neither Zorro nor Pilar says anything until they are out of sight of Monastario and García. But before Pilar can catch a glimpse of Bernardo waiting alone with two horses, Zorro stops her with a touch on her arm.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Señorita,” he says. 

“Pilar, please. No thanks are necessary, Señor Zorro. You would have done the same for me.”

“Sí,” he replies, “but it’s not often that it happens the other way around.” 

“When I heard the fighting, I thought I would come upon a bandito robbing a traveler.”

“Little did you think you would be rescuing the bandito, eh?” he smiles. Then he grows grave. “Señorita, word of your captive friends has reached me. Be assured, Zorro will do all he can to free them.”

She looks into the eyes behind his mask. “You are kind, Señor. My people do not often get guardian angels, even ones who dress all in black. But we are not without our own resources: we will not wait for someone to rescue us.”

He bows. “I am only here to help if I am needed.” Then he nods toward the rim of the gorge. “I must go.” 

She offers her hand. “I am glad I met you, Señor Zorro.”

He takes it and kisses it politely. “And I you, Señorita Pilar.” 

He lets her go and bounds up the piled boulders to reach the rim. Giving her a final wave, he disappears beyond the edge. She continues on her way back up the road.

Zorro sprints back to Bernardo, who greets his sudden arrival with an expectant look.

“No time to explain,” he says. “Help me change, quickly!”

Minutes later, Pilar walks out of the shade of the gorge and comes upon Diego and Bernardo, lounging on the grass eating apples and cheese.

“Don Diego,” she says in confusion, looking back over her shoulder. “I…didn’t expect you to be here.”

“But how did you get into the gorge?” Diego asks with exaggerated curiosity. “And where is your horse?”

She gives Diego a long, appraising look. “It doesn’t matter. Why are you still here? I thought you were going directly to Buchar.”

“Well, it’s a long ride back to the coast,” Diego says, “and this was a good place to stop for a picnic. Would you like an apple?”

She gathers her skirts impatiently and strides past them. “Thank you, no. I must be on my way.”

The two men watch her go. Bernardo points to her, then to Diego, then swipes his finger in a Z.

“Yes, I think she suspected,” Diego agrees. “But now, like all of them, she thinks I’m a useless dandy. Whatever she hoped I might do for the boys, she expects nothing now.” He sighs. “Well, Zorro may have impressed her, but Diego has disappointed yet another charming acquaintance. It seems a high price to pay to keep my secret, does it not?”

Bernardo smiles sympathetically and hands him another apple.


	15. Episode Two: Scene Five

Diego stops short of the beach. “I don’t like the idea of your going aboard with me, Bernardo,” he says. “You only just escaped last time. Maybe you should stay here with the horses.”

Bernardo gives him a stubborn look.

“Fine,” Diego sighs. “I suppose he won’t try anything under a flag of truce. Do you have a bandana or something?”

Bernardo produces a white handkerchief and Diego dismounts, walks to the shore, and signals to the lookout on _La Santa Rosa_. A few minutes later, they can see a boat being lowered into the water.

“Well, he’s willing to talk, anyway,” Diego says.

When the boat arrives, he asks to be taken to _El Neptuno_.

“But the capitán is aboard _La Santa Rosa_ ,” the sailor says.

“The capitán is portable, is he not?” Diego replies. “It will be worth his while.”

The sailor shrugs and signals back to the ship. By the time he and his colleague have rowed Diego and Bernardo to the lugger, Buchar is already onboard.

“This is indeed a surprise,” he says as they climb over the rail. “I thought your…nighttime swim would have put you off sailing for a few days.” He looks at Bernardo. “And I thought he would have been put off even longer.”

Diego looks at his servant and then back at Buchar. “We come for a parley, Capitán. I expect we can both behave like gentlemen of honor?”

Buchar smirks. “If you can, I can.” He snaps his fingers for wine. “What can I do for you, Don Diego?”

“I would like to ransom the Gabrieleño hostages.”

“What Gabrieleño hostages?” he asks innocently.

“Come, Capitán. By now all of Los Angeles knows you raided the mission two nights ago.”

“And yet you are the only one who seems concerned.” When Diego doesn’t reply, Buchar goes on, “You see, Don Diego, you are laboring under a misapprehension.”

“And what is that?”

“I am not holding the Indians hostage. I am taking them prisoner. There is a difference.”

“I fail to see it.”

“Hostages are valuable for the price they will bring,” he explains. “Prisoners are valuable for their labor.” Buchar sips his wine and gestures for Diego, who has not touched his, to do the same. “You see, I would not tell just anyone this, Don Diego, but speaking gentleman to gentleman, I have suffered something of a reduction in my crew since my—what did you call them?— _difficulties_ in Chile. I am turning these boys into sailors.”

“With the same pay you offer the rest of your crew, no doubt,” Diego says.

Buchar smirks again. “They should thank me, really. It’s a much better fate than being petty farmhands on the mission.”

“I think they would like the opportunity to decide for themselves,” Diego points out.

“Oh, they have a choice,” Buchar says. “They can sail under me, or, when we get to Peru—”

“You’ll sell them as slaves,” Diego finishes for him. “How original.”

Buchar waves his wine glass dismissively. “If it’s good enough for the dons’ sons it’s certainly good enough for the Indians.”

They are interrupted by a shout from belowdecks, and suddenly through the open hatch leaps a skinny boy, pursued by a much slower turnkey with a big belly and a bald head.

“I’m sorry, Capitán,” he pants as the boy takes shelter behind Diego. “I only opened the hatch for a second.”

“I’m not interested, sailor,” Buchar says. “Take him below.”

“Let him try!” the boy shouts.

The turnkey snarls and starts toward him, but Diego blocks his way, and Bernardo jumps forward, ready to brawl.

“Just a moment, Capitán,” Diego says. “There’s no need for unpleasantness. Or are you afraid of what the boy might say?”

Buchar signals casually for the turnkey to fall back, and Diego turns to the child. “I am Don Diego de la Vega. And you’re Miguel, I presume?”

Liliana’s face brightens, looking much more like a girl’s now. “You’ve seen Pilar?”

“She is safe,” Diego says. “She’s very worried about you.”

Liliana scoffs. “I’m fine. That one knows to be careful around me. I’ve bitten him twice already.”

Buchar looks at the turnkey, who sheepishly shows him the bruised bite marks on his hand.

“How are they treating you?” Diego asks. “Are you being fed? Is anyone hurt?”

“Only him,” Liliana grins, pointing again at the jailor. “I didn’t come to ask for help. I only wanted to know Pilar is safe. Tell her I’m all right, will you?”

“If I see her again, I will,” Diego promises.

“Are you satisfied, Don Diego?” Buchar asks. “You see the boy is well. Better, apparently, than my turnkey.”

“Won’t you let me ransom him at least?” Diego offers. “I can give you five hundred pesos right now.”

“I have already told you, Don Diego, that that’s not what I want him for.”

“But surely—”

“Of course,” Buchar adds with a glint in his eye, “if you wanted to trade one set of hands for another….” He gestures at Bernardo, who stands next to Liliana.

Bernardo looks from one man to the other and back, his face attentive but otherwise studiously blank of emotion. When Buchar glances away, Bernardo gives Diego a tiny nod. The muscles work in Diego’s jaw as he grinds his teeth at the dilemma.

“Don’t be stupid,” Liliana says, either to Diego or to Buchar, and voluntarily traipses back toward the hatch. 

Just before she climbs down into the hold, Diego gets his voice back. “I’ll find a way to free you.”

Liliana looks back at him. “If you don’t, Pilar will,” she says blithely, and drops out of sight.

“The optimism of children, no?” Buchar observes. “But speaking as adults, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Don Diego.”

Diego looks at him stony-faced. “I don’t.”


	16. Episode Two: Scene Six

Alejandro swings onto his horse and beckons to the vaquero who stands awaiting orders.

“I’m so much later starting than I intended,” he says impatiently. “How he could have thrown a shoe in his stall is beyond me. Move the cattle into the upper pasture and tell Diego he has to meet with the dons about the grain price while I’m gone. Benito, are you listening to me?”

Juan Pablo turns back around. “Sí, Don Alejandro. I will tell him.”

“Very well. Hasta luego.” He spurs his horse on and canters away from the hacienda.

Once he is out of sight, Juan Pablo returns his gaze to the outbuildings, squinting at the barn in the distance. His eyes grow wide. “Fire! Fire!” he shouts, and not only the vaqueros but the house servants come running at his frantic cries. They sprint away in a desperate race to quench the flame before it spreads to the other buildings.

From the hill, Monastario observes the commotion and smiles. Then he turns his attention to the road below, which bends in an arc around the foot of the hill. Don Alejandro is passing directly below him. He draws a pistol, takes careful aim, and fires.

The bullet strikes the road inches in front of the horse, who squeals and rears up in alarm. Losing his balance, he falls onto his side, bringing Alejandro down with him. The horse rises again almost immediately, but the old don lies stunned.

Monastario walks down the hill toward him. “Buenas tardes, Don Alejandro. I hope I didn’t startle you.”

Alejandro struggles to sit up on one elbow, shaking his head to clear it. 

“Allow me,” Monastario says, pulling the don to his feet. In the same motion, he wraps a cord around Alejandro’s wrist and ties it to the other, behind his back. “You can walk, I assume?”

“Monastario,” Alejandro mumbles.

“At your service, Señor.” He pushes Alejandro forward. He draws Alejandro’s sword from its sheath and lays its tip between the don’s shoulders. “Let’s return to your hacienda, shall we? We have much to discuss.”

When they arrive at the gate to the patio, no one is about except a scrappy white terrier, who barks frantically when he sees the stranger with his master.

Monastario menaces him with a fist, but he only barks the louder. “Shut him up,” he tells Alejandro, giving him a jab with the sword point.

The don, limping on the ankle the horse fell on, shushes the dog, who backs away dubiously. Monastario opens the gate and forces Alejandro through. Once inside, Monastario guides him with the point of the sword into the sala, where he cuts Alejandro loose.

Alejandro makes a lunge for the door, but Monastario seizes him and pushes him down into a chair. There, he grips the struggling don in a strangle-hold with one arm and with the other he rebinds him to the chair, first hands and then feet.

“Now,” he says, shaking his hair back into place and perching on the edge of the table, “comfortable? Don’t shout,” he adds as Alejandro opens his mouth. He brandishes the sword and Alejandro subsides.

“What do you want, Monastario?”

He examines Alejandro’s sword, looks down its length for warping. “This is a fine blade.” Without warning, he sweeps it whistling over Alejandro’s head, missing the don by inches.

Alejandro ducks, then looks over his shoulder at the candles on the side table. “You missed,” he observes.

Monastario smiles, then one by one knocks over the invisibly severed candle tops with the point of the sword.

Alejandro settles back uncomfortably. “You still haven’t said what you want.”

“Oh, not much,” Monastario says. “Primarily I want to keep you from intercepting the governor: he must arrive tomorrow just as planned, blissfully unaware of the Argentine ships in his harbor.”

“You can’t keep me here for a whole day.”

“I don’t have to. Delaying you only a few hours will be enough.”

“We have dozens of people working on this rancho: you’ll be discovered.”

Monastario smiles. “It takes a long time to put out a fire in a barn full of hay. And by the time it’s out, I think we will have come to an understanding.”

Alejandro grunts. “What kind of understanding would that be?”

Monastario leans forward, one elbow on his knee. “You are going to keep Zorro out of my way.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Oh, you don’t really have any choice,” Monastario explains. “You see, Don Alejandro, this morning I sent four of Buchar’s men to this hacienda. They helped your horse off with his shoes, and then they set the fire. By now they’re waiting in the stable loft to escort you to the coast in one of your own wagons.”

Alejandro’s face shows no trace of fear. “Going to throw me off a cliff, are you?”

Monastario smiles. “Not if Zorro saves you first. Speaking of which, where _is_ your son?”

Only then does Alejandro betray a flash of alarm. “What do you want with Diego?”

Monastario’s smile turns dangerous. “I think we both know.”

Alejandro collects himself. “Diego has done nothing to you.”

“Is that so? Then he didn’t cost me my commission? I have been much mistaken.”

“You lost it yourself,” Alejandro says, growing agitated, “with your wild accusations.”

A flash of anger cracks Monastario’s façade. “Wild, were they?”

“Of course,” Alejandro sputters.

Monastario raises a hand to strike, but he satisfies himself with seeing Alejandro flinch. “Do not mock me, Señor. It would not become a gentleman and an officer to strike an old don.”

“Gentleman and officer,” Alejandro scoffs. “You are neither of those things, Monastario. You are a brigand and a pirate.”

“And whose fault is that?” Monastario demands, leaning close to Alejandro’s face.

“You always have been, Señor,” says Alejandro with dignity. “Only now everyone can see.”

This time Monastario does strike him with the back of his hand. “Now, Don Alejandro,” he says, tugging his glove back into place, “I believe it is time to meet your escort.”


	17. Episode Two: Scene Seven

Don Diego and Bernardo round the bend of the road to the hacienda, trotting along at a leisurely pace. But they pull up short when they come upon a saddled chestnut gelding grazing by the side of the road.

“That’s my father’s horse,” Diego says. “Father? Father?”

They ride off the road and search the bushes for Alejandro, but when they don’t find him, Bernardo taps Diego and points toward the hacienda.

“Yes,” Diego agrees, “if he fell, he may have made his way back home. Come, quickly.”

They gallop back to the hacienda, but when they see no one around, they pause.

“Something’s not right here,” Diego says. 

Bernardo’s brow furrows with concern and they retreat just far enough to watch the gate without being seen.

Suddenly, the patio gate opens and half a dozen men bundle out in a cluster. The scrappy white dog goes wild with barking. The reason the men are crowded together becomes clear when one stumbles and reveals a bound and gagged Alejandro surrounded by four sailors out of uniform. He is struggling against his bonds and against the men who half-push, half-carry him toward a waiting wagon, but his efforts are only effective in making the men clumsy and slow. 

Diego moves to charge forward, but Bernardo grabs his elbow, pointing to the sixth man, who now comes into view.

“Monastario,” Diego says.

The men bundle Alejandro into the wagon and two climb into the seat while the other two take up positions on either side of their captive. The driver cracks the whip and the wagon moves off. Monastario watches them go, then turns back, threatening the barking dog, and returns to the hacienda.

Diego looks from the wagon to Monastario and back again, torn. Bernardo taps his arm, points to the wagon and then to himself, and gestures from his eyes to the wagon and back.

“Yes, go, Bernardo,” Diego says. “See where they take him and then come back here. No, don’t try to engage them: one against four is bad odds and the stakes are too high. Monastario is plotting something and we have to find out what.”

Bernardo turns his horse, but Diego says, “Wait,” and pulls Zorro’s sword and cape from his saddle bags. Bernardo grins.

Minutes later, Zorro creeps along the wall of the hacienda to the gate. The white dog comes bounding up, tail wagging. Zorro scratches his ears, then lays a gloved finger against his lips. He glances through the gate to the patio and finds it empty, but as he watches, the figure of Monastario crosses in front of the sala window. Zorro lets himself through the gate, runs with catlike stealth up the stairs, and ducks into his room. From there it is a quick trip from the secret panel, down the spiral stairs, and to the spyhole in the back of the silver cabinet.

Monastario is no longer there, though the drawers in the side table are open. Zorro follows the passage to the library and opens the spyhole in the bookcase to see Monastario rummaging through the desk. When his back is turned, Zorro opens the bookcase and steps out.

“What are you looking for, Monastario?” he asks, and the intruder whirls around, drawing his sword. Zorro raises his own casually.

“For you,” Monastario says.

“You thought perhaps I lived in the desk drawer?”

“There has to be some evidence linking you to Diego de la Vega.”

Zorro rolls his eyes. “Not this again, Monastario.”

“You don’t deny it,” he says, beginning to circle into a strategic position.

“Do you want me to? Fine.” Zorro transfers his sword to his left hand and raises his right. “I swear on my honor, Zorro and Diego de la Vega are two completely different people.”

“Prevarication,” Monastario says.

“Well, we are rather different, don’t you agree?” Zorro says lightly.

“And besides,” Monastario adds, “you are a bandito. You have no honor.”

“Says the comandante who turned pirate.”

With a growl, Monastario strikes out at Zorro, who parries his thrust with the sword still in his left hand. He returns two blows for Monastario’s one, but both are blocked.

Suddenly Monastario stops and looks toward the patio. “The dog did not bark when you entered.” He advances with growing fury. “Why did the dog not bark? Tell me!”

But they are now fighting in earnest, and there are no more words. Back and forth across the library they range, striking each other in rapid succession, first Monastario advancing and then Zorro pushing him back toward the far wall. When Monastario finds himself trapped, he seizes a heavy chair and heaves it at his pursuer. Zorro throws himself to the ground to avoid the blow, and before he can rise again Monastario leaps over him and runs through the door.

Zorro gets his sword back in his right hand and pursues him into the sala, but Monastario meets him with a series of wine glasses hurled at his head. Zorro ducks as each one smashes on the wall behind him.

“Stop breaking things!” he shouts in exasperation.

“If you are not Diego,” Monastario taunts him, “what do you care what happens to the de la Vega crystal?” He throws the last glass, which flies wide and shatters.

Finally Zorro is able to advance upon him, and they circle the table, sizing each other up. Zorro feints right, then left, and Monastario dodges the opposite direction each time. Then Zorro leaps onto the table and throws himself down, sliding the length of the board feet-first toward the intruder.

Monastario only just leaps out of the way in time, finding himself pinned between the fireplace and his attacker. He strikes twice, then a third time as Zorro parries the blows, and then Zorro answers, pushing him toward the cold hearth. Monastario trips on the stone and lands in the grate, but just as Zorro looms over him, he grabs a handful of ash and throws it in his face. While Zorro is blinded by the grit in his eyes, Monastario launches forward and bears him to the ground.

When they land, Monastario pins both of Zorro’s arms with his knees. But instead of using his blade, he knocks off Zorro’s hat and reaches for his mask. Zorro gets one arm free and seizes Monastario’s wrist.

“I will look into your face once and for all,” Monastario pants through gritted teeth.

At the last second, Zorro gets his knee up and plants his boot in the middle of Monastario’s chest. With one heave, he shoves him away, back into the fireplace. Zorro leaps to his feet and Monastario, now empty-handed, jumps over the table and throws himself through the window onto the patio. Zorro grabs his hat and pursues him through the mess of shattered glass.

Monastario sprints up the stairs and ducks into the first room with an unlocked door, which happens to be Diego’s. There is a sword on display over the fireplace and Monastario seizes it just as Zorro enters. The two exchange another series of increasingly wild blows. When Zorro shows no sign of letting up, Monastario grabs the bed curtains and throws them over Zorro’s head. While Zorro struggles to disentangle himself, Monastario wrestles the sword out of his hand and throws his weight against him, the blade pressed to his throat.

Zorro stumbles backward until his back hits the sill of the open window. He struggles to hold the blade off his neck, but Monastario has the leverage and the advantage.

“For the second time today,” Monastario pants into his face. “I have a sword at your throat, Señor Zorro. But there is no one to save you this time.”

Zorro’s eyes dart toward the door, but he has sent Bernardo away. There is no one to come.

Suddenly, there is a groan and a sharp crack, and the windowsill and adobe wall under Zorro’s back begin to bow outward. Both look in the direction of the sound: the land slopes away behind the hacienda, and the drop to the ground below is much greater than two stories. During a motionless second, each man can look into the fear in the other’s eyes. Then the wall gives way and they fall.

If anyone had been in the hacienda looking out, they would have seen two prone forms lying motionless on the earth behind the house, but no one is there to see. They lie this way for some minutes, and then Zorro stirs.

Slowly, painfully, he picks himself up from the ground, taking a long time on his hands and knees to catch his breath. When he has recovered himself, he crawls over to Monastario and turns him over. His mouth is bleeding, but his chest rises and falls with shallow breath. Zorro checks over his limbs and finds no broken bones, but still Monastario has not woken. He looks around indecisively, and his eyes fall on the willow trees some distance beyond in the valley.

“Come, Monastario,” he says to the unconscious form, “you shall be my guest a little while longer.”

And, with a great deal of effort, he gets Monastario over his shoulder and carries him with many a weary stumble toward the entrance of the secret cave.


	18. Episode Two: Scene Eight

The wagon carrying Alejandro comes to a stop on a deserted section of the road from Los Angeles to Monterey. It is nearly dark. They are high up in the hills, and on both sides the road is bounded with crags and boulder-strewn plateaus. On one side, a deserted promontory lies below a ledge, hidden from view of the road. With some effort, the kidnappers get the wagon down onto this promontory, which ends in a sheer drop hundreds of feet into a valley below.

Bernardo halts his horse in the shelter of a boulder, dismounts, and creeps closer.

“Is this the place, Lieutenant?” one sailor asks dubiously.

“That’s what the capitán said,” the lieutenant replies. “And the third mate confirmed it.”

“What do we do now, then?”

“Get a fire going, and then wait.”

“How long?”

“Sunset tomorrow, more or less.”

The others exclaim in protest.

“That’s the orders,” the lieutenant says. “We don’t make a move until the governor’s carriage rounds that bend over there.” He points to a spot a mile north where the road swoops out over another precarious cliff, this one dropping directly into the sea.

“So we’re just supposed to sit here and play cards all of tomorrow?”

“There are worse ways to spend a day,” another points out.

“Three of us will play cards,” says the lieutenant. “One of us will ride back to the pueblo and post this.” He shakes out a roll of thick paper. 

Bernardo moves closer, but it is still too far away to read. Instead, he slips around the other side of the boulder and begins creeping toward the wagon.

The sailors groan. “That’s a long ride, and the horses are already tired.”

“ _We’re_ already tired.”

The lieutenant shrugs. “Nothing to be done about it. Sit down and let’s draw straws.”

While they are occupied, Bernardo comes up behind Alejandro and touches his elbow. The don jumps, and then relaxes when he sees his son’s servant.

Bernardo draws a knife and begins to cut the bonds on Alejandro’s wrists. But as he shifts position to get a better angle on the rope, he steps on a dry twig, which snaps loudly.

All four sailors leap up. Bernardo makes a lunge for safety, but the lieutenant is on him in a flash. “If it isn’t the disappearing magician,” he says, dragging Bernardo forward into the firelight. “My, my, we do get around, don’t we?”

Bernardo points to his mouth and to his ears, then shakes his head.

“Yes, yes, I know. Deaf and mute.”

“Shall we see what it sounds like when a mute man screams?” asks one of the sailors, coming forward with his knife drawn.

“Not tonight,” says the lieutenant. “I have a better idea. You’re in luck, little deaf-mute: we have an errand for you. Raul, fetch that parchment.”

Raul comes forward and hands over the roll of paper.

“I want you to deliver this to the pueblo, understand?” the lieutenant says, thrusting the paper into Bernardo’s hands. “Post it on the cuartel gates.”

Bernardo signs again that he can neither hear nor speak.

“Take _this_ ” the lieutenant says, pointing to the paper, “to the _pueblo_. Post it on the cuartel _gates_.” When Bernardo continues to look confused, he throws up his hands and walks away. “Make him understand, Raul.”

Raul comes forward again uncertainly. “Take this,” he says, pointing as the lieutenant did at the parchment, “to the pueblo.” He makes a roof with his hands. “Post it” (he makes a pinning gesture) “on the cuartel gates” (he opens and closes his hands like a pair of doors). 

Bernardo imitates the gesture, but in his hands it turns into a pair of flapping wings. He smiles and nods as though he now understands.

“No, no. The cuartel gates—oh, how do you sign ‘cuartel’?” Raul asks in exasperation.

The other sailors offer suggestions, one pantomiming soldiers marching with rifles, another drawing circles with his hands as though outlining the walls of the garrison. Bernardo looks from one to another, his expression of confusion returning.

“Never mind, never mind, idiots,” the lieutenant says, pushing his way back through the circle they have formed around Bernardo. “He is a servant. He’ll deliver it to someone and word will get around. They say the Fox is everywhere. Get going, little deaf-mute, and consider yourself lucky.”

Bernardo gives one last despairing glance at Alejandro, still bound in the wagon bed, but he scurries off when the lieutenant aims a kick in his direction. He runs to his horse and gallops away back in the direction he came.


	19. Episode Two: Scene Nine

Bernardo does not post the letter on the cuartel gates. Instead, he rides to the hacienda, now in the midst of a midnight stillness after the panic of the afternoon fire. Letting himself through the patio gates—giving the wiry dog a pat on the way—he stops short when he sees the sala window shattered. Alarmed, he runs up the stairs to Diego’s room, knocks, and when he receives no answer, opens the door.

The first thing he sees is the mess made by the fight, but as he comes around the bed, he is confronted with the broken wall under the window. He runs to the gap and looks down, but even in the blue light of the half-moon, it is clear there is no one on the ground below. Immediately, he hurries back around the bed and opens the panel beside the mantle.

In the secret room, he finds Diego, still dressed all in black but with his hat and mask cast aside. He is half-lying on the bench with his head back against the wall and his eyes closed. Bernardo rushes over and touches his shoulder.

He sits up with a start, then slumps back again when he recognizes his friend. “I’m all right, Bernardo,” he says in answer to the frantic gesticulations. “I just needed to rest for a moment. Here, help me up. Oh!” he winces as Bernardo pulls on his arm. “Careful, my friend. I’m a little the worse for wear this evening.”

Gingerly, he gets to his feet and stands leaning with one hand against the roughhewn wall. “I could…use a little water,” he says.

Bernardo hurries back to the bedroom and returns with a pitcher and a cup. When Diego has drained a cupful, he straightens up. “Gracias, Bernardo.” Again Bernardo gesticulates, demanding an explanation. “I’ll tell you all about it,” Diego says, “but first, my father. Is he all right?”

Bernardo nods and Diego relaxes a little. “Where have they taken him?”

In response, Bernardo draws the scroll from inside his jacket and together, they unroll it and read:

“Señor Zorro is summoned to settle an affair of honor at the fifth mile marker on the Monterey road, sunset. Be there or allow another to suffer the consequences.”

“Where did you get this?” Diego asks. Bernardo points to the “fifth mile marker” phrase. “They caught you, eh? I don’t suppose you ignored what I told you and tried to so something foolish?”

Bernardo looks a little sheepish and Diego smiles despite himself.

“Don’t worry, my friend. It speaks well of you: I suppose I would have tried something foolish myself. So they intend to trap Zorro using Don Alejandro, do they?”

Bernardo nods.

“But why there? Why tomorrow, just when the governor is arriving by that same road? They risk him stumbling upon them while they hold a don hostage.”

Bernardo hops from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to explain. He traces a chain with a medal hanging from it around his neck.

“The governor?” Diego guesses.

Bernardo pantomimes the governor riding in his carriage. Then he turns around, closes one eye and grimaces, then draws an imaginary sword.

“Pirates?”

Bernardo mimes the pirate spotting the governor rounding the bend. Then he strokes an imaginary beard and points to Diego.

“My father.”

He mimes the pirate pushing Alejandro off the cliff.

“So the sailors have orders to wait until they see the governor before they do anything to my father. It’s clearly a trap, Bernardo, but there’s a piece we’re missing.”

Bernardo mimes shooting the governor, then raises his hands in question.

“Possibly,” Diego says, “but why go to the trouble of capturing Zorro—and in such a troublesome way—if they’re just going to assassinate the person who would pay them the reward?”

Bernardo shrugs.

“Unless…” Diego muses. “Unless it’s not the governor they’re targeting.”

Bernardo ponders, then traces an hourglass figure with his hands.

“Yes,” Diego agrees. “The governor’s daughter is riding with him. What if she’s the target, and they want to make sure Zorro is out of the way when they attack her? Out of the way and easily trapped. Bernardo, I think the pirates are planning to kidnap Leonar and ransom her.”

Bernardo raises his eyebrows, impressed.

“Yes, it is rather audacious of them, isn’t it?” he says. “But Bouchard has already proven he likes the method. And he’s going to try to collect the reward for Zorro at the same time. But how will he ransom Leonar and avoid the governor finding out he’s the one behind it?”

Bernardo shakes his head.

“I don’t know either,” Diego says. “But we have a trick up our sleeves as well, and it might prove useful in the end. Come, see what the Fox has caught in his lair.”

Taking the lamp, Diego leads Bernardo down the spiral stair and into the cavern where Tornado and Phantom stand in pens, ankle-deep in straw. They walk past the horses to an empty pen where the lamplight falls on the bound and blindfolded figure of Monastario. Bernardo leaps back in shock.

“Who’s there?” Monastario barks, raising his head blindly. “I demand to know where I am.”

Diego leads Bernardo back into the passage with a touch on his arm. Once they are safely out of earshot, Bernardo gestures for another explanation.

“I thought we might need to question him,” Diego says. “Besides, I couldn’t exactly leave him wandering around the rancho when he came to. He only woke an hour ago, but I don’t think he’s hurt. He is rather cross, though.”

Bernardo snickers. 

Diego looks back up the spiral stair. “I need to go figure out something to tell the servants when they wake up and see the state of the hacienda. Give Monastario some food and something to drink, but keep him blindfolded. Then come and meet me in the sala: we have to plan for tomorrow.”

Bernardo nods again, then looks back toward the cave and gives Diego a sly look.

“I know,” Diego says. “All this time Monastario has tried to capture Zorro, and in the end it’s Zorro who captures him.”

They laugh and Bernardo claps Diego on the shoulder.

“Ow!” he says. “Bernardo!”


	20. Episode Two: Scene Ten

It is after the siesta, and Sergeant García is hustling his lancers around the plaza. “You, get those crates out of sight. You, go ask Tio to sweep in front of the tavern. Where are you going with that wine, Corporal?”

Corporal Reyes stops. “It’s for the governor’s table tonight, Sergeant.”

“Oh. It would not do to serve him bad wine. Let me test it.” He grabs a cup from a passing tray full of dishes and pours himself a generous sample from the tap. He sips, smacks his lips thoughtfully, then drains the cup. “Sí, it will do. On your way, Corporal.”

Suddenly, at the far end of the plaza between the cuartel wall and the alcalde’s house, an apparition materializes: Zorro, all in white, on a white horse. The horse rears up and Zorro waves, his form indistinct in the folds of his cape.

“Ghost Zorro!” García gasps. “Not now. The governor is coming, don’t you know that?”

The lancers scramble to return to the cuartel for their rifles. “Never mind that, babosos,” García says.

“You don’t really think he’s a ghost, do you, Sergeant?” one of them says.

“No,” he barks, “but if your aim is so bad you’ve never managed to shoot the black Zorro, what makes you think you can shoot the white one? Gunpowder is expensive.”

The white horse spins in a circle, then backs a few paces away down the alley.

“So are you going to chase him, Sergeant?” Reyes asks.

García sighs. “I suppose it would be embarrassing to have a ghost Zorro hanging around the plaza when the governor arrives. Go on, fetch my horse. Lancers, with me!”

Up in the hills, the Zorro in black lies flat on top of a boulder, surveying the twilit scene below him. Two sailors, one tall and one short, prowl watchfully about the perimeter of the bare promontory of land, bordered on one side by the ledge rising to the road and hiding it from view, and on the other by the sheer cliff dropping a hundred feet into the rocky valley. The promontory slopes down toward the cliff, and balanced precariously at the edge is a wagon. And inside the wagon lies a bound and gagged Alejandro.

The wagon is prevented from plunging over the cliff only by a single rope strung between the wagon hitch and a large stone embedded in the soil. A pile of firewood lies under the rope, midway between the wagon and the stone, and a burning torch is stuck in the ground nearby.

“I’m going to light it,” the short sailor says.

“Not yet,” says the tall one. “Not until the governor’s carriage rounds that bend.” He points into the distance where the second cliff is visible through the trees on the far side of the promontory.

The short sailor snarls and resumes pacing. Just then, the sound of pounding hooves thunders down from the road. Zorro, higher up than the two sailors, raises his head to catch a glimpse of Bernardo on Phantom, and then at some distance Sergeant García and a small group of lancers pursuing him.

Zorro smiles in grim satisfaction and turns his attention back to his father. He jumps to his feet and leaps down into the midst of the startled sailors.

“Zorro!” cries the tall one, and he throws a knife in his direction. Zorro sends it spinning off the cliff with a sweep of his sword.

The other sailor runs for the torch and thrusts it into the wood pile. Zorro sprints over and knocks him away, but the oiled firewood has already kindled. Zorro kicks at the fire, but before he can dislodge the pile from under the rope, the sailor rallies and comes at him with saber raised. Zorro spins to engage him. Behind them, the rope begins to smoke.

The tall sailor throws another knife, which just misses Zorro’s ear as he ducks. Saber and rapier clash back and forth in quick succession, but when the short sailor finds his blade is no match for his opponent’s, he swings hard enough to knock Zorro’s sword aside and throws himself at him like a wrestler. Just as they lock on each other, another knife comes whistling through the air, and the short sailor suddenly goes rigid and crumples to the ground with his compatriot’s blade in his back.

Zorro now faces the tall sailor, who draws his sword but keeps a wary distance. Just at that moment, there is a snap behind Zorro and he turns to see that the rope, fraying with the heat, has lost one strand, which now hangs broken and smoking in the flames. Then the sailor is on him, striking while his back is turned. But the whistle of the blade gives Zorro just enough warning to duck into a roll and leap to his feet again, ready for the next attack.

Only it doesn’t come from the tall sailor. It comes from a third sailor, meaty and big-boned, who suddenly appears from behind and strikes Zorro hard with a club. The blow makes a heavy thud, but it is badly aimed and misses his head, striking him in the shoulder and knocking him into the fire. 

Zorro leaps back to his feet, shaking the burning embers from his cape before they can ignite. But when he looks back up, both his attackers are coming at him, one with the sword and the other with the club. In a rapid movement, Zorro switches his sword to his left hand and reaches his right back into the fire. He parries the tall sailor’s blade and, when the big one aims another blow at his head, he meets the club with a burning brand of firewood.

The big sailor leaps away in surprise, allowing Zorro to fence sword-to-sword with the tall one, who is no match for him even left-handed and falls back in retreat. Then the club-wielder advances again and now Zorro is the one falling back under his greater weight and strength. A second snap sounds from the smoldering rope.

Zorro circles the battleground, avoiding the blows of the club, and finds himself sandwiched between the two sailors—the big one advancing on him in front and the tall one taking heart and stalking up from the cliff’s edge. For a second it looks as though Zorro is trapped, and then the big sailor casts caution to the wind and throws himself into a killing blow.

While the sailor’s arms are raised over his head, Zorro crouches low and catches his attacker around the knees. The blow goes wide, but its momentum carries the sailor forward, curled over Zorro’s back. Zorro stands up and rolls the big man over his shoulder. In his uncontrolled somersault, he crashes into his tall companion, and with a cry, the two fall in a tangle over the edge of the precipice.

Zorro looks over the edge to see their two forms lying still on the rocks below, then runs back to where the flame still licks at the rope. He scatters the fire and smothers the burning rope with his gloved hands, but only one smoking strand holds the wagon in place now.

Swiftly, he leaps into the wagon and finds Alejandro not only bound but bound to the slats of the sideboard. With his sword, he saws at the cords, but even as they begin to fall away, the wagon gives a lurch and both Zorro and the old don look to the frayed rope that holds it in place. The last strand is breaking, twisting rapidly as fiber after fiber gives way.

Alejandro shakes off the last cord binding him to the wagon, but there is no time to free his feet. Zorro picks him up over his shoulder and runs for the safety of the promontory, but just as he reaches the end of the wagon, the last fiber of the rope snaps and the wagon slips out from underneath him. It plunges over the cliff, bearing him backward with it, and he makes a final leap from the boards just as the wheels launch off from the rock.

The promontory is empty, and the sound of the splintering wagon carries up on the wind from the valley below. But a single black-gloved hand is clinging to the edge of the cliff. Zorro is still hanging on, and clinging to his other hand is Alejandro, his mouth still gagged and his eyes wide with terror.

Gritting his teeth, Zorro swings his father onto a narrow ledge below the lip of the cliff. With Alejandro perched there precariously, he hauls himself up to safety, then turns on his stomach and reaches down to the old don. He grasps Alejandro by the forearms and begins to drag him upward, but even when he gets the don’s chest over the lip, the cliff is undercut below and Alejandro finds no brace for his feet, still bound at the ankles. Zorro shifts his grip to get his father under the arms and braces himself for the final effort.

Suddenly Alejandro cries out, his eyes wider than ever but his words muffled by the gag. Zorro hurries to get him over the ledge and has nearly done it when a pistol shot resounds against the surrounding rocks. Zorro turns half on his side to see Buchar’s lieutenant, a look of shock on his face, clutching his chest and falling slowly backward. Alejandro is still holding the pistol he pulled from Zorro’s belt.

Zorro pulls him the rest of the way to safety and then sits back catching his breath as Alejandro pulls off the gag.

“That was close,” Alejandro observes, panting. “Very close.”

Zorro nods, forearms on his knees. Alejandro pats one of them. “Thank you, my son. I owe you my life.”

Zorro returns the gesture and nods toward the fallen lieutenant. “Thank _you_ , Father.” “But Diego, why did you come for me? I heard them talking—what about the governor? I’m just an old man: it is the stability of California at stake.”

Zorro slices through the cord on Alejandro’s ankles. “Some things must be done in person, Father,” he says with a smile, “and this was one of them. I sent Bernardo to help the governor.”

“By himself?”

Zorro looks a little sheepish. “With Sergeant García and the lancers.”

Alejandro gives him an incredulous look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get going before it’s too late!”

“What about you, Father?”

“The horse is behind the rocks on the other side of the road,” Alejandro says. “I’ll take him and ride to the pueblo. Someone needs to alert the dons.”

He heads off, but Zorro calls after him.

“Father, if you get back to the hacienda before me…”

“Yes?”

“…The sala window is broken—”

“Again! Diego—”

“There’s also a hole in my bedroom wall and a captive tied up in the cave.”

Alejandro raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Zorro grins and whistles for Tornado.


	21. Episode Two: Scene Eleven

As Phantom thunders up the Monterey road in the moonlight, the carriage of the governor with its escort of half a dozen mounted soldiers rounds the bend up ahead. Once he catches sight of the carriage, Bernardo pauses, looks behind him at his pursuers, then spurs Phantom off the road and up into the hills.

“He’s leaving the road, Sergeant,” Corporal Reyes says, pointing.

“That is the governor’s coach,” García replies. He blinks hard. “And that is not a lancer behind it.”

Indeed, a figure in black on a dark horse has just swooped around the bend in hot pursuit of the carriage. The driver, alerted by the cry of one of the soldiers, looks back and then whips the carriage horses into a mad gallop. But the dark horse catches up with them swiftly and, charging right through the rearguard, the rider stands up on his saddle and makes a wild leap onto the back of the coach. He pulls a footman bodily from his position and throws him down onto the road. 

“It is Zorro!” a lancer cries. “He’s attacking the governor!”

“But, yesterday he said—” García begins, but the lancers around him have already charged, and he spurs his horse after them. “Lancers, wait for me!”

The attacker is grappling with the driver now, but it doesn’t take long for the stranger to thrust him down just as he did the footman. Unimpeded, he climbs over the roof of the carriage and jumps down onto the shaft connecting the carriage to the madly running horses. He reaches down and uncouples the horses, letting them fly on in their terror, while his own gallops up alongside. Balancing carefully, he leaps from the coach to his horse and pulls up hard, just as the road curves outward and the inside wheel of the carriage strikes the rock wall. The carriage rears backward and crashes onto its side, sliding a long way before coming to a stop on the road.

“The governor!” García cries. “Hurry, lancers!”

Having left the road, Bernardo continues over the hills above it, and the sound of the wrecking carriage resounds off the rocks close by. He skids to a stop, dismounts Phantom, and starts to leave him, but then he then thinks better of it and returns to tie the horse to a tree branch. He shakes a warning finger at the stallion, then runs to look down onto the battleground. García and his lancers burst onto the scene, but at the same time a dozen men in sailors’ uniforms swarm up onto the road from a ledge below it. Soon the air is filled with the metallic clash of lance and sword.

Bernardo pumps his fist when a lancer’s horse sends two sailors tumbling back onto the ledge they came from, but his celebration is short-lived, because above the road, unseen by the men below, another half-dozen sailors suddenly rise up from between the boulders and clefts in the rock. They creep toward the ledge of the rock wall and look down, ready to leap into the fray.

They are only fifty yards away, but they are so intent on the action below that they have not caught sight of him yet. Bernardo sneaks around behind them and climbs up a rocky crag that overlooks their position just as theirs overlooks the road. He draws his sword but hesitates, counts his enemy, and then puts the sword away again. Patting his pockets, he finds his new slingshot, which he frowns at dubiously. Still, he bends to find some ammunition, only when he reaches for a pebble, his hand finds a white rock the size of his fist. He looks around; there are several such rocks within easy reach. His frown disappears.

Sheltering behind the edge of the crag, Bernardo takes careful aim at the nearest sailor and lobs the rock. It arcs gracefully in a twenty-foot freefall and strikes the sailor in the back of the head. The clash of swords below drowns out the thud of the impact and he collapses without even a groan. Bernardo grins and reaches for another rock.

Soon the four sailors closest to the crag are unconscious on the grass, the ones in front never the wiser as they continue to monitor the fight below them. But the last two are quite far away from Bernardo now, and when he throws the fifth stone into the darkness, it falls next to the sailor it was aimed at. The sailor looks at it in surprise, then turns to see where it came from. Quickly, Bernardo dispatches him with a better aimed rock, but by then the last sailor has time to turn and see his companion fall back open-mouthed onto the ground. He leaps to his feet before Bernardo can grab another stone and disappears behind a stand of scrub trees. 

Warily, Bernardo gets to his feet and draws his sword. He comes down from the crag and picks his way among the inert forms of the sailors. When he reaches the scrub trees, he braces himself and then jumps into the space behind them. It is empty. Confused, he lowers his sword, and that is when the sailor strikes him on the head from behind with the hilt of his saber.

Bernardo falls into the brush, but he has not been knocked unconscious. He shakes his head dizzily and just in time sees the sailor bearing down on him with another blow. He rolls away and gets to his feet, parrying the sailor’s next two strikes at the last instant. The sailor advances on him, slashing with the saber, and on the fourth blow, Bernardo’s sword snaps at the hilt. Bernardo backs away, but almost immediately he runs up against the rock wall of the crag.

The sailor pounces on him, pressing his forearm against Bernardo’s neck. “You’re a little small for a dangerous bandito, aren’t you?” he observes. With his other hand, he knocks off the hat and pulls the white mask off with a single swipe. Bernardo’s frightened face looks back at him.

“Well, well,” he says with a grin. “Graduated from the slingshot, have we?” Suddenly he lets Bernardo go and stands back. “Move over there. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Bernardo makes a half-hearted effort to sign that he neither hears nor speaks, but the sailor gives his side a slap with the flat of his saber and his meaning is clear enough without words. Reluctantly, Bernardo moves out into the open and backs away from the advancing blade.

“You know, Pierre still can’t sit down, and Ramón’s knuckle is the size of a hen’s egg. You may be small, but you are a very big nuisance.” Then he grins again. “And you are in very big trouble.”

They are both close to the edge of the overlook now, and Bernardo starts when his heel meets with air instead of stone.

“Look down,” the sailor says. “It’s the narrowest part of the road here. I figure if I give you enough of a nudge, you’ll go right over it and off the cliff. It’s a long way down.”

Bernardo does not look.

The sailor has just reared back his arm to give a final thrust with his saber point when suddenly he lifts off the ground as though picked up from behind. He launches into the air and falls—just as he said—right over the road and off the cliff on the other side. His cry is drowned out by the fighting below.

Bernardo stares open-mouthed at Phantom, who seesaws his head up and down, the same motion that just threw the sailor over the edge. His reins are still in his mouth from where he pulled them off the tree branch.

Back on the road, the lancers and the sailors enter a fierce melée, breaking lance on sword and sword on lance, the tide of battle turning first in favor of one side and then the other. The masked attacker who disabled the carriage, however, does not join in the fight. He pulls his horse up to the wreck, two of its wheels still spinning, and dismounts. He climbs on top of what was the carriage’s side and pulls open the door like opening a ship’s hatch.

Inside, the governor, his personal bodyguard, the governor’s daughter, and her maid lie in a tangled heap, stirring feebly. He reaches in and starts grabbing arms.

First he pulls up the bodyguard, who blinks through the blood running into his eyes. “Gracias, Señor,” he murmurs, struggling to see what he is looking at. “Where are the attackers?”

“Here,” says the false Zorro, and flings him over the cliff.

Next he brings up the maid, who tries to scratch his face, but he laughs and casts her aside into the road.

“You’re next, Señorita,” he says, and reaches for Leonar.

“Halt!” comes a shout from beyond the overturned coach. The stranger stops and looks up.

Sergeant García is barreling up on his big-boned horse. “Unhand the governor, Señor Zorro,” he orders. “Or I shall be forced to shoot you.”

“Who are you?” the false Zorro asks dismissively.

“You…do not know me, Señor Zorro?”

“Does it matter?” the stranger replies, slamming the carriage door shut. He hops back onto his horse and draws his rapier, waiting.

García draws his saber and spurs his mount forward. The two horses pivot around each other, their riders’ knees bumping, as the stranger strikes twice with his rapier and García parries. The black cape tangles as the false Zorro readies to strike again, and he tears it impatiently from his throat.

“Señor Zorro?” comes a woman’s voice.

Leonar has managed to open the carriage door and climbed out onto the side. She looks around at the chaos in confusion.

“Your servant, Señorita,” the false Zorro says, but he says it clumsily, and it becomes clear that his accent is Dutch.

García’s eyes grow wide. “You do not sound like Señor Zorro.” His face darkens and instead of continuing to fight with his sword, he reaches for the stranger’s mask.

The false Zorro seizes his wrist, but García is much stronger than he is and they grapple with each other until García manages to tear away, not the mask, but the mustache.

The sergeant stares at the ribbon of false hair in his fingers, but the imposter wastes no more time. He wheels his horse and canters back to the carriage, sweeping the unsteady Leonar onto his horse with one arm as they pass. 

“Sergeant García!” she screams as her kidnapper gallops through the fighting lancers, back up the road toward Monterey.

García sheathes his sword and gallops after her. They are quickly clear of the fight, for there are only a few sailors left armed and the lancers are close to restoring order. But none of them can help as the stranger flees up the road with García on his heels.

Suddenly, a second black figure on a black horse leaps down from the overlook and joins the chase right beside García.

“Señor Zorro!” the sergeant cries. “Is it really you this time?”

“Could you doubt it, Sergeant?” he shouts over the whipping wind and clattering hooves. 

García’s face breaks into a delighted grin that he suppresses badly, and he spurs his horse to even greater speed.

The kidnapper has a lead, but his horse is burdened with two riders, and Leonar is not sitting quietly. Even García’s horse begins to gain on him. He and Tornado inch up on the dark horse, who is really bay and not black, until his whipping tail touches their outstretched noses.

When they have the stranger’s horse sandwiched between them, Zorro calls out, “García, the girl!” Leonar reaches out, and the sergeant pulls her onto his horse. 

Immediately García drops back, and the two Zorros are racing neck and neck. Zorro pulls his feet up onto the saddle seat and leaps from Tornado’s back, barreling into the imposter and bearing him to the ground. As they fall, the stranger’s head strikes the road hard, and he does not stir again.

Zorro kneels for a moment, recovering himself, then pulls the mask from the stranger’s face for good measure, revealing Buchar’s sailor, Van Horn. He binds the man’s hands with the mask. Finally he stands up and winces, testing his battered shoulders and neck. He sighs.

At this point, Tornado returns to him and he remounts, then rides slowly back down the road. But as he comes around a blind curve, he comes upon García, hands bound and mouth gagged, sitting against the rock wall looking shocked and frightened. Leonar is nowhere in sight.

“Sergeant, what happened?” Zorro demands, pulling off the gag and cutting his hands free.

“They came out of nowhere, Señor Zorro,” he says. “They took the governor’s daughter. I could not stop them.”

“Where did they go?” he asks, and García points to a steep trail leading from the road down to an inlet of the sea. Already the fresh group of sailors, pushing Leonar in front of them at sword-point, are close to the bottom, and at the shore a boat waits for them with a man already at the stern.

“What do we do now, Señor Zorro?” García asks mournfully.

Zorro glares down at the fleeing sailors. “Now, Sergeant, we go fishing.”


	22. Episode Three: Unlikely Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This week: Time is up for the Gabrieleños and the governor’s daughter. Can the Fox defy the odds to forge an unprecedented alliance and save them all? Find out in this week’s episode of…Zorro!

Scene One

When Zorro returns to the cave, Phantom is in his stall, still steaming from his race back from the hills. Zorro dismounts, leads Tornado in next to him, and quickly removes the saddle and bridle. Giving the horse a pat on the neck as he buries his nose in the manger, he turns his attention to the captive in the other pen.

“Don Diego,” Monastario says, “I know you’re there. Show yourself, you coward.”

Shaking his head, Zorro takes a cup and pitcher from a little table where Bernardo left them and lets himself into the pen. He sets the cup on a stool and fills it, then frees Monastario’s hands.

Monastario jerks the blindfold down as Zorro steps away. “What do you want?” he barks.

“Only to talk, Señor.” Zorro sits down in the hay opposite Monastario and gestures at the wine. “Please.”

Monastario hesitates, but it has been hours since Bernardo gave him food and drink, and in the end he takes the cup. As he sips, his eyes dart over to where a pitchfork leans against the cave wall just outside the pen.

Zorro draws his sword. “I wouldn’t do that, Señor.” 

Monastario puts the cup down.

“How are you feeling?” Zorro asks.

“Like I fell out a window,” Monastario snaps. “Get to the point.”

“As you wish, Señor. Would you like to hear what happened tonight?”

Monastario gestures at Zorro. “Clearly not what was planned.”

“Indeed,” he agrees. “El Pirata Buchar failed to capture Zorro. He also failed to frame him for the kidnapping of the governor’s daughter. Can you guess who uncovered the impostor?”

“You?”

“Sergeant García.”

Monastario leans his head back against the wall and looks at the cave ceiling. “That stupid sergeant.”

“Not as stupid as you thought, apparently.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“First of all,” Zorro replies, “because it amuses me to let you know your plot has been foiled.”

“Only partly foiled,” Monastario points out. “You didn’t say the governor’s daughter was not kidnapped.”

Zorro bows. “Which brings me to my second reason. I want you to help me rescue her.”

Monastario laughs. “What makes you think I would help Zorro, of all people?”

“Because there’s something in it for you. Isn’t that why you do anything, Monastario?”

Monastario gives him a shrewd look. “Why do you need me?”

“You know Buchar’s plan. You know which ship Leonar was taken to. You know how much he is going to demand for ransom and where and when he will arrange for it to be paid. And you know how you were going to double-cross him.”

“I resent that,” Monastario says.

“I’m sure you do. But I am right, am I not?”

Monastario doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead he asks, “What’s in it for me? You said there was something in it for me.”

“The governor will be very grateful to whoever returns his daughter to him, don’t you think? Grateful enough to offer him a pardon for whatever…indiscretions he may have committed in the past.”

“I don’t trust you, Señor Zorro,” Monastario says, leaning sarcastically on the “Señor.” “You will take whatever I give you and gain a pardon for yourself instead.”

“It may surprise you, Monastario, to know that I don’t want a pardon. I’m quite content with the way things stand.”

“Oh, are you?” Monastario sneers. “By day, Don Diego the fool, and by night, Zorro the outlaw. You couldn’t be tempted to put aside the mask and be one man again? Neither fool nor outlaw but” (he sweeps the air with his hand as though tracing a banner in the sky) “the people’s hero, adored by don and peon alike?”

Zorro doesn’t respond right away, instead examining the straw at his feet. “I have been tempted before,” he says. “I cannot deny that it would be a relief to stop looking over my shoulder. And there are times when even the best masked bandit would like to be known. But California seems to keep needing a Zorro. For some reason the mask is necessary—an ordinary swordsman just won’t do: many have tried. And as long as there is still a call for the Fox, the Fox must answer.”

“Sentimental poppycock,” Monastario says, and suddenly Zorro smiles.

“You know, I have missed you, Monastario. You always remind me why I am doing this.”

Monastario scoffs.

“Besides,” Zorro goes on, “I might as well admit that you are the best swordsman I have ever crossed blades with. It grows a bit dull, fighting banditos and frightened lancers. There was the Eagle after you, of course, but since then it’s mostly been petty criminals and jewel thieves.”

Zorro looks surprised when, instead of sneering, Monastario grunts, “You ought to try sailors. The Cavenses are good, but Buchar is the only great swordsman among them, and he refuses to fence with me.”

“And why is that?”

Monastario glowers. “We had a bout once, in front of the crew, and he disarmed me—but only just. He won’t put himself in a position to lose to me in a second match. He is a good pirate, but he is very vain.”

“And short-tempered,” Zorro observes.

“There are no Argentines on either ship—do you know that? They won’t sail with him, he has such a reputation.”

“He begins to sound like a comandante I used to know.”

Monastario glares at him and Zorro asks, “How did you get mixed up with such a combustible character anyway?”

The glare turns icy. “It may have not have occurred to you that career opportunities for disgraced comandantes are limited.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Zorro says. “But I suspect, Monastario, that a man like you makes his own luck. We thought Los Angeles had seen the last of you, and yet here you are.”

“And here you are, mounting a one-man attack on the most infamous pirate in California.”

“Two men,” Zorro reminds him, “if you will join me.”

Monastario looks him over. “You should enjoy crossing swords with Buchar. I hardly know which of you I should wish to fail.”

“I am honored to rank so high in your animosities,” Zorro says. “Now, will you help me or not?”

“How do I know you won’t double-cross me?”

“At some point, Monastario, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“And how do you know I won’t double-cross you?”

“At some point, Monastario, I’m going to have to trust you.” He purses his lips in thought. “Besides, despite all evidence to the contrary, I don’t think you will double-cross me. You are no common thief. If I am not very much mistaken, Señor, at heart you are a gentleman. And I will accept your word as a gentleman that you will honor our agreement.”

“Take off your mask,” Monastario says, sitting forward.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you trust me, take off your mask and look me in the eye, man to man.”

Zorro smiles. “I’m afraid you’ll have to content yourself with my hand,” he says, standing up and stretching it out. “What do you say, Monastario? Shall the bandito and the pirate join forces, just this once?”

Monastario looks at Zorro’s hand for a long time, but finally he reaches out and takes it.

“For peace and justice,” Zorro says.

“For profit and pardon,” Monastario corrects him.

Zorro lets himself out of the pen, disappears into a corner, and returns with Monastario’s sword. He pauses, eyeing his old nemesis, then reverses the blade and hands it over hilt-first.

Monastario takes it, slowly, and returns it to its sheath.

“Good,” Zorro says. “Now, what does Buchar have up that fancy sleeve of his?”


	23. Episode Three: Scene Two

Bernardo is in the little room just behind the secret panel, folding Zorro’s mask and cape and stowing them in their chest. Diego slips in from his bedroom.

“Well, Manuel is finished putting up the boards to cover the hole,” he reports. “I told him there had been a crack in the adobe for weeks.”

Bernardo outlines a window with his hands and then punches through it, lifting his eyebrows in question.

“I said the window in the sala was broken by a burglar. Which isn’t entirely untrue.”

Bernardo nods, absently touching the back of his head where he was struck the night before. He winces.

“Don’t complain to _me_ about being sore,” Diego says. “After the last two days, do you know what I look like under this?” He plucks at his shirt.

Bernardo gives him a sympathetic look.

“Anyway, I’m going to take Monastario to the deserted hacienda outside the pueblo. You know the place?” 

Bernardo nods. 

“I’ve invited Sergeant García to join us. No,” he says in response to the raised eyebrow, “he doesn’t know it was me, of course. But we may need his help.”

Bernardo points to himself in question.

“No, I don’t want you at the table. The last thing Monastario needs is to see Diego’s manservant and Zorro sitting side-by-side. Even Sergeant García would get suspicious at that.” When Bernardo looks grumpy, Diego hastens to add, “But I do want you there. Arrive before us and find some corner to stow away in so you can hear the plans. We’ll need your help too.”

Bernardo traces a mask over his eyes.

“You’re fond of that, aren’t you?” Diego says, and Bernardo grins. “Yes, maybe the Ghost of Zorro will be needed in the end.”

Bernardo points down the spiral staircase and makes a talking gesture in front of his mouth with his hand.

“Yes, Monastario has been most forthcoming, now that there’s a profit in it. Did you know the men you knocked unconscious last night were his? They were meant to take Zorro from Bouchard’s men once they’d captured him so Monastario could collect the reward instead.”

Bernardo looks pleased with himself.

“Yes, my friend,” Diego says. “You have saved Zorro from the comandante yet again. Now, this is what we know so far. Bouchard has demanded three thousand pesos for the return of the governor’s daughter, to be paid tonight. I know. Apparently the governor travels with something of a treasury. Leonar is being held on _La Santa Rosa_.”

Bernardo raises two fingers like feathers behind his head.

“Yes, the mission boys are on _El Neptuno_. I haven’t forgotten them—but neither has Pilar. The news about the kidnapping has gone up and down the whole countryside this morning: by now Pilar will know if she’s going to do something, she must do it before the ransom is paid and Bouchard sails.” When Bernardo looks dubious, Diego says, “I wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating her. Remember, _she_ saved Zorro from Monastario too. Now, on your way, my friend. Be at the hacienda by noon.”

A few hours later, a bandito, a pirate, and a sergeant take seats around a dusty table in a ruined hacienda. Sunlight streams through a hole in the roof and Zorro casts his eyes around the room. At one end, behind Monastario and García’s backs, stands an empty cabinet missing one door. Bernardo peeks out, gives Zorro a nod, then retreats into the shadows behind the other door. Zorro makes no sign.

“This used to be a rich hacienda,” Monastario observes.

“It burned during the drought,” Zorro says. “Are you quite all right, Sergeant?”

García has been staring open-mouthed from Monastario to Zorro and back again since they sat down. He shakes himself.

“I am sorry, Señor Zorro, but this is a very strange day. I never thought I would be sitting at a table between the comandante and Zorro, working together, like partners.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Monastario says.

“It is a strange turn of events, is it not?” Zorro says cheerfully. “Now, Monastario: were the men on the cliff last night your only allies among Buchar’s crew?”

Monastario sits back in his chair with a look of superiority. “Of course not. The crew of _El Neptuno_ is small, but it is mine.”

“And how were you going to relieve Buchar of the ransom for Señorita Leonar?”

“Simple. I was going to be the one to take her ashore and make the exchange.”

“Let me guess,” Zorro says. “Once you had the money in hand, you were going to board _El Neptuno_ and commandeer her, crew, captives, and all.”

Monastario shrugs. “She is a much faster ship than _La Santa Rosa_. Buchar would never overtake her.”

“You would be Capitán Monastario again, eh?”

“But how did you turn all those men, Comandante?” García asks.

“Don’t look so incredulous, Sergeant,” Zorro says. “As fond as you are of your former comandante, it should come as no surprise to you that men flock to his banner in droves.”

“You are trying to nettle me,” Monastario says, “but it won’t work. I have already told you Buchar is a difficult man to serve under.”

Zorro smiles. “You’ve had a taste of your own medicine, have you?”

Monastario folds his arms. “Your point?”

“Only that I hope you prove a better capitán at sea than you were on land,” Zorro says. “We may need the support of those men of yours. Buchar will have changed his plans given last night’s events. When you did not return to the ship, he will have realized you have been compromised: he will not trust you to make the exchange for Leonar. And since the plot to capture Zorro went astray, he will be on his guard. He will not risk going ashore for the exchange now.”

“That is true, Comandante,” García says. “We have received instructions that the ransom is to be taken by boat to _La Santa Rosa_ by the governor himself. Only after Pirata Buchar has been given guarantee of safe passage will he release the señorita to her father.”

Monastario rubs his beard in irritation. “This makes things more complicated.”

“It does?” García asks.

“We cannot let Buchar sail away with that kind of money,” Zorro explains. “He’s too dangerous. But getting it back from him after Leonar is taken to safety would have been easier on land. And now we’ll have the governor to worry about too.”

Monastario’s eyes pick up a glint of enthusiasm. “It’s going to come to blows.”

“That’s why we may need the crew of _El Neptuno_ ,” Zorro says. “But more importantly, it’s why you’re here, Sergeant.”

“Me, Señor?”

“You, García. You can bring half a dozen lancers, can’t you? Not all of them were bruised to pieces last night? The three of us and the lancers will row out to _La Santa Rosa_ and board her secretly while the exchange is being made.”

“Sí, Señor Zorro, I can bring them,” García says uncomfortably. “But what am I to tell them about sitting in a rowboat with the most wanted man in California?”

“Tell them they’ll have the first shot at me the minute we are all ashore again.”

“Is that wise, Señor?” García asks. “They might actually hit you one of these days.”

Zorro grins. “You wouldn’t let them do that, would you, Sergeant? Now, between the three of us and the lancers, with the crew of _El Neptuno_ in reserve, we should have a good chance against Buchar. After all, a dozen of his most trusted sailors are currently sitting in the cuartel jail.”

“So all we have to do,” García says, “is bring the governor and the señorita back to shore safe and sound, along with the ransom money.”

“Preferably without getting killed,” Zorro adds. García swallows.

“And Buchar?” Monastario asks.

Zorro grins, pointing to the sword at Monastario’s side. “It looks like you’re going to get your chance at a rematch after all.”

“Forgive me, Señor Zorro,” García puts in. “But what about the little children from the mission? We can’t leave them behind.”

Zorro smiles. “You are a good man, Sergeant. But fortunately, you are not the only one looking out for their welfare: they will be taken care of, rest assured.” He stands up. “Now I believe we all have preparations to make.” The others rise as well and he ushers them out ahead of him. “The ransom is due at sundown. I will see you all at the mouth of the creek this evening. Hasta luego.”

He waits until they are well out of the room and then returns to the broken cabinet.

“Did you hear?” he asks.

Bernardo steps out and nods.

“I said not to underestimate Pilar, but we should be prudent as well as hopeful. If something goes wrong with the children, we’re going to need to be able to go from ship to ship. Do you think you can arrange that?”

Bernardo considers for a moment, then mimes cutting through a rope at his side. He bobs around and then blunders into Zorro’s shoulder.

“Yes, that will work,” Zorro agrees, catching Bernardo and righting him. “Cut loose the anchor on one of the ships and it should drift into the other.” He pauses, thinking. “With the direction of the tide this evening, it had better be _La Santa Rosa_. Cut the cable and then get back to safety. Agreed?”

Bernardo nods.

“Good man. I’ll see you tonight.”


	24. Episode Three: Scene Three

As a crescent moon rises over California, Tornado picks his way through the brush to the edge of the marsh. Monastario and García are already there.

“Where are your lancers, Sergeant?” Zorro asks, dismounting and sending Tornado back into the cover of the cottonwood trees. 

“I brought eight,” García says. “I sent four of them with the governor and one of his guards. Buchar is sending a boat for them, like last time—over that way. The other four lancers are bringing our boat. Oh, here they are.”

But it is not a group of lancers in a rowboat coming down the creek toward them. It is a long plank canoe, its occupants paddling quietly in the dark. The vessel could seat twenty passengers, but at the moment it carries only five. When the canoe gets close enough, Zorro leaps forward.

“Pilar,” he calls quietly.

One of the paddlers stops, then says a word to her companions, who guide the canoe to the shore and hold it there. She steps into the sand, no longer wearing her gray dress but a loose blouse and a buckskin skirt.

“Señor Zorro,” she says. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?”

“I could say the same thing,” he replies. “I am glad you got word of events.”

“The boys will not sail for Chile tonight,” she says. She waves a hand toward the canoe. “These are my people, some of the ones who still live on the land and not in the mission. They’ve come to help.”

Zorro nods in greeting to the men in the canoe. “We would like to help too, Señorita.”

“We?” Then she catches sight of Monastario and García standing behind Zorro and immediately whips a knife from her belt. “What are you doing here, Señores? I thought I had taught you to keep your distance.”

She strides toward them and García raises his hands in surrender. Zorro runs after her. “No, Pilar. They’re not the enemy, not anymore.” He pauses. “Or not today, at least. You must trust me: tonight we are all on the same side.”

Pilar glares at the two men and slowly returns her knife to its sheath. “Stay out of our way,” she says. She turns on her heel, but suddenly Monastario steps forward.

“What is your plan?” he asks.

“What is yours?”

“You cannot take _El Neptuno_ with four men,” he says.

“We don’t have to,” she replies. “I know the ship. They’ll never realize we’re there.”

Monastario gives a reluctant nod. “Be careful, Señorita.”

She eyes him, then returns his nod with a stiff bow. She slips back into the canoe and they are gone in moments, disappearing downstream toward the sea. Monastario stands watching their wake for a long moment.

“Why Monastario,” Zorro says, “I do believe you are smitten.”

Monastario glares at him, but that only makes Zorro smile. “I should have known the only woman who could win your heart would be one who could best you with a blade.” He chucks Monastario under the chin where Pilar had held him at knife point and Monastario pulls away pettishly.

“But in all seriousness,” Zorro adds, “if things go badly on _El Neptuno_ , you will order your men not to harm the Gabrieleños, won’t you?”

“As long as it doesn’t get in the way of my pardon,” Monastario says churlishly, and Zorro must accept it at that.

“Come,” he says, pointing upstream to where a rowboat bobs unevenly toward them. “Here are your lancers, Sergeant.”

When the governor’s boat passes the breakers on its way to _La Santa Rosa_ , Bernardo, white mask and cape in place, climbs down from Phantom. He is some distance south of where the governor launched, in a thicket of cottonwoods and mesquite trees. He loops the reins around a branch, then thinks better of it and loops them twice more. He pushes a small rowboat into the water and jumps in. With a glance over his shoulder to make sure the other boat is far enough out not to spot him, he settles in to row. 

As the pirate boatswain and the governor, with his escort of four lancers, come up alongside _La Santa Rosa_ to be winched aboard, Bernardo makes a wide circle around to her bow. The anchor cable stretches between the ship and the sea, and despite the bobbing of the waves, Bernardo gets hold of it and pulls a knife from his belt. But the cable is not a rope: it is a heavy chain. For a long moment, Bernardo looks from his little knife to the chain and back again, flummoxed. Then he furrows his brow in thought and finally returns to the oars.

He rows himself in the shadow of the ship around to its other end and sits in the boat, gazing up at the stern. Taking a rope with a hook on its end from under his seat, he swings it a few times and then lets it fly at the open window of the captain’s cabin. It settles with a clinking sound on the sill. He tests it several times and then hauls himself up.

Climbing with more determination than grace through the window and into the empty cabin, Bernardo takes a moment to catch his breath. Once he has resettled the white hat squarely on his head, he coils his rope, shuts the window, and sneaks to the door to peer out onto the deck. As before, Buchar is offering his unsmiling guest a glass of wine in the lamplight; Leonar, flanked on either side by armed sailors, refuses the cup offered to her.

While the deck hands are occupied with the drama progressing before them, Bernardo slips out of the cabin and slinks along the rail until he is level with the hatch, which the wine-bearer has left open. When the governor raises his voice to berate Buchar, Bernardo dives into the hatch and disappears belowdecks.

In the dark, Bernardo feels his way along the passage, checking an open door for sailors before scurrying past. When the cook stalks out into the passage grumbling, he ducks into an empty cabin, but the cook only grabs a mop from the wall and returns to the galley. Bernardo continues toward the bow.

At last, he comes to the gallery where cannons stand in rows along both sides of the ship and the capstan sits in the middle of the space, a thick rope wrapped around it, like a giant bobbin of thread. Bernardo follows this rope forward and confirms that it is attached to the anchor chain just before it passes through the hull. He crouches down in front of the rope and draws his knife again.

It takes a long time to saw through the heavy cord, but at last it gives way with a snap, and Bernardo leaps back as the rope recoils and the anchor chain rattles through the opening in the hull and falls into the sea with a faint splash. The ship rolls a little to one side. He stows his knife, dusts off his hands, and hurries back to the passage. He pulls himself up at the threshold, though, and turns back around, looking at the row of cannons. A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

Corporal Reyes and three other lancers, two rowing and one idle, sit crowded in a rowboat facing their former comandante and the most wanted man in California. They look almost as unhappy as Sergeant García, who squeezes his eyes shut and holds his stomach.

“Watch the horizon, Sergeant,” Zorro says.

García opens his eyes. “You know, someone else said the same thing to me just the other day. Was it you, Comandante?”

“If you’re going to be sick, Sergeant,” Monastario says, “do it quietly.” He points up at _La Santa Rosa_ looming over them, her rails bright in the lamplight.

“Hold steady here,” Zorro tells the lancers when they near the bow. He stands up in the boat, producing a rope and grappling hook from under his cloak. Waiting for a swell to clap against the hull, he swings the rope onto the rail, the metallic clank masked by the rush of water.

“We wait until the governor and his daughter are safely back in their boat,” he says quietly. “Then we board. I’m going up to have a look. Or would you like to do the honors, Monastario?”

Monastario waves him away. “Foxes are the ones made for spying.”

Zorro touches his hat to him and shimmies noiselessly up. At the top, he gets a good grip and raises his eyes above the railing to see the deck lined, as it was before, with sailors in uniform, all watching the ceremony between Buchar and the governor. 

The governor sets down his wine glass still half-full. “Now, can we dispense with this ridiculous pageantry and conclude this sordid business?”

Buchar takes one more sip and puts his glass down. “As you wish, Señor. Let us commence with our trade negotiations.”

The governor grunts and signals for his guard to approach with a small wooden box. “Three thousand pesos for the safety of my daughter. That is what was demanded, no?” He unlocks the box and displays its contents to Buchar.

“Sí,” the captain says slowly, “that is what we agreed. But, Governor, I suddenly discover that the price has doubled.”

The box lid slams shut. “Doubled! Why?”

Buchar smiles. “Simple law of supply and demand. Tonight I find myself in possession of an abundance of supply, for which there will be an increased demand on shore. Not one member of the governor’s household,” he says, bowing to Leonar, “but two, your Excellency.” 

He snaps his fingers and two of his sailors seize hold of the governor.

“No! Father!” Leonar cries, struggling against the sailor who now catches hold of her as well, but he is much larger than she is. In a matter of seconds, both she and the governor are bound with their hands behind their backs, and someone ties a bandana around the governor’s mouth.

“Why do you gag him?” Leonar demands. “There is no one to hear him.”

“Because he irritates me, Señorita,” Buchar says. “Pray do not force me to do the same to you.”

Zorro has slid back down the rope into the boat. “Sergeant, Monastario,” he says, “up the rope, quickly. Buchar has taken the governor hostage. Lancers, follow us.”

He steps back to allow Monastario up the rope, but García hesitates. “Please, Señor Zorro, do you not have a ladder? Or at least a bigger rope?”

Zorro ignores him and climbs back up after Monastario. They leap onto the deck just in time to see the governor’s guard fall under a sailor’s blade. The four lancers who came with the governor stand bunched together, threatened by sailors’ bayonets. Buchar looks up at the newcomers and his face darkens.

“The uncatchable bandito,” he observes. “And my missing third mate. Changed sides once again, Monastario?”

Monastario responds by drawing his sword.

By now Corporal Reyes and the other lancers have made it over the rail as well, and they line up with their rifles at the ready. Buchar sighs. “You’re not here to negotiate, I see.”

“There is still a chance for that,” Zorro says. “Free the governor and his daughter and let us settle this between ourselves.”

“It is a nice idea,” Buchar replies, “but that would be a very stupid thing for me to do.” His raises his head and shouts, “All hands on deck!”

Suddenly the ship is in chaos. The lancers fire their rifles at the sailors who swoop down on them, but they exhaust their ammunition long before they run out of attackers and must resort to their lances and swords. At a gesture from Buchar, Leonar is forced into the captain’s cabin and her father is bundled through the hatch into the hold.

From the rowboat, García hears the sounds of battle and leaps to his feet. “I’m coming, Comandante! Do not worry!”

It takes him three tries to work up the courage to trust himself to the rope, but at last he jumps up and hangs suspended a foot above the boat. Inch by inch, he begins to climb.

On deck, Zorro points to where the prisoners have been taken. “Do you want the governor or his daughter?” he asks Monastario over the noise.

When Buchar takes up a position in front of the doors to the captain’s cabin, Monastario growls, “His daughter.”

Without another word, Zorro sets off for the hatch, crossing swords with one sailor and then another and throwing them swiftly out of his way. He drops down into the darkness of the hold, and immediately a large sailor comes at him with a saber.

Zorro ducks as the first blow rings against the wall behind him, then dives around the sailor as he recovers his balance, only to find a second, smaller sailor in his way. They exchange a series of blows before the bigger sailor comes at Zorro from behind, raising his saber to chop from above. But the ceiling of the hold is low, and the saber point sticks in a seam, so the big man’s hands come down empty. 

Zorro grins, then whips around just in time to see the other sailor thrusting his rapier at him. He flattens himself against the wall and the blade runs past him and right into the chest of the bigger sailor. The big man falls forward on top of his comrade, pinning him to the floor. Zorro leaps over them and begins checking doors.

He finds the governor in the galley, guarded by another sailor. When Zorro comes into view, the sailor hurls an iron pot at his head and he ducks just in time. A second pot follows, smashing a shelf full of jars. Zorro feints to the left of the worktable in the middle of the galley and the sailor runs right. Zorro leaps back right and the sailor retreats left. Pursuing him around the table, Zorro finds himself in front of the stove, and when yet another iron pot comes hurling at his head, he answers in kind, spattering the sailor and the wall behind him with bubbling stew. The sailor yelps and drops his sword.

“This way, Governor,” Zorro says, taking the older man by the elbow and hurrying him into the hall. He pauses to cut the bonds on his wrists and the governor pulls the gag off.

“Behind you!” he shouts, at the same time as a loud clang reverberates through the hold.

Zorro turns to see the soup-spattered sailor fall forward unconscious. Behind him stands Bernardo with an iron skillet in his hand.

The governor looks from the black Zorro to the white one. “Two of them,” he marvels.

The black Zorro urges him back up the corridor toward the hatch, turning as he goes to tip his hat to Bernardo, who grins and waves the skillet.

Zorro runs up the ladder ahead of the governor. On deck, the lancers are still clashing madly with the sailors, and Monastario has fenced Buchar all the way up to the helm, where they are striking back and forth at each other like snakes. Sergeant García is just rolling over the rail and flopping onto the deck. Zorro drops back down.

“I’m going to bring you to where your daughter is, Excellency,” he says. “Take this” (he gives him a small switchblade) “and cut her free. When it is safe, we will come for you.”

The governor takes the knife and doesn’t argue. Zorro sprints up the ladder again and turns, reaching back down to help the older man out onto the deck. Scarcely has the governor gotten his footing when a sailor comes up from behind. Zorro has no time to raise his blade and instead steps aside, grabbing the sailor in his charge and throwing him headfirst into the hatch.

“Come, Señor!” he cries, leading the governor astern and bursting through the doors to the captain’s cabin.

Leonar cries out in surprise, and the sailor guarding her immediately launches the attack. With one arm, Zorro shields the governor, pushing him out of the way of the charge, and with the other he meets the sailor’s blade. Rather than returning the attack, Zorro retreats a few steps before parrying the next blow, then retreats a few more, drawing the sailor out of the cabin.

When the sailor is clear of the door, the governor ducks inside and shuts himself in with his daughter. Zorro locks blades with the sailor and throws him aside. “Guard that door, Corporal,” he tells the nearest lancer.

“Sí, Señor,” Reyes says, coming to attention and saluting. 

Zorro returns the salute and Reyes crumples in embarrassment as the masked man disappears into the fray.

Unnoticed by the sailors on deck, a canoe of Gabrieleños floats quietly in the shadow of _El Neptuno_. Just as Zorro did on _La Santa Rosa_ , one of them stands up and tosses a grappling hook over the rail. Once it is secured, Pilar climbs up it hand over hand, her bare feet bracing her as she makes her way up. But instead of climbing onto the deck, she hangs suspended between rail and sea, level with a porthole that opens into a cabin in the hold.

All is dark inside, so she draws her stout knife from her belt and wedges it into the seam between the sash and the casing. With some effort, she breaks the latch and the porthole swings open. It is a small opening, but she and the Gabrieleños are small themselves, and she slips inside feet first, without a sound. Leaving two men to manage the canoe, the other two follow her into the ship. They pull up the rope behind them and close the porthole.

There is a lamp in the corridor outside the cabin and the sound of men talking toward the bow, but Pilar leads the others aft instead. In the very stern of the ship, the thirty kidnapped boys sleep on the floor behind an iron grate. The turnkey leans back on a stool in front of grate snoozing as Pilar and her companions approach. Liliana, sitting in a corner with her back to the wall, looks up and her face brightens when she sees Pilar approaching in the semidarkness. Immediately she begins waking her companions with a hand over their mouths to keep them silent.

One of the Gabrieleños takes up his station keeping watch down the corridor. Pilar and the other come forward, standing over the sleeping turnkey. Roused by some faint sound or a change in the light as they come between him and the corridor lamp, the turnkey’s eyes flutter sleepily. They fly wide open when he sees two people looming over him and he leaps to his feet, but before he can cry out, Pilar and her friend pounce upon him. She grabs his wrist and keeps him from drawing his sword and the other clubs him solidly on the head with the butt of a knife. The turnkey slides to the floor, and as he does, Liliana’s hand snakes through the bars and lifts the keyring off his belt.

Pilar and the other Gabrieleño quickly tie a gag around the turnkey’s mouth and bind his hands and feet while Liliana tries keys in the lock until she finds the right one. She starts to open the door slowly, but it creaks, so she thrusts it open quickly and its hinges go silent after a single squeal. In minutes, the boys are crowded in the corridor and the turnkey, just coming around, opens his eyes to find he is now the one in the cell with Liliana just locking him in. As he struggles uselessly against the ropes that secure his wrists behind his back, she holds up the keys and waves good bye.

With a single whispered word, the lookout warns them that someone is coming down the corridor. Pilar bundles the boys into an empty cabin and the lookout dowses the lamp as he enters after them so that the turnkey behind the bars is cast in deep shadow.

Pilar hurries to the porthole, swings it open, and leans her head out, giving a short whistle to the men in the canoe. They paddle up and hold position under the porthole while the Gabrieleños onboard secure the rope and begin slipping the boys one by one out the window, where they slide down the rope into the waiting canoe.

Half of the boys have gone and the men are just reaching out to lift Liliana to the porthole when there is a shout of surprise from the corridor. A lamp flares.

“The prisoners have escaped!” a sailor cries, and his cry is taken up by others belowdecks. The sound of doors opening and closing reverberates through the ship as the search commences.

It takes only a second for a sailor to throw the door of the cabin open and discover the Gabrieleños clustered around the open porthole.

“I’ve found them!” he shouts over his shoulder, drawing his sword.

The two Gabrieleño men draw their knives to meet his advance. As the sailor charges into them, one locks blades with him and the other grabs his free arm, wrestling him to the ground. The sailor fights fiercely, knocking one of his opponents into the wall and the other into a table, which crashes into splinters, but they immediately throw themselves back into the attack.

Liliana pulls at Pilar’s sleeve. “We can draw them off,” she says, gesturing at the corridor where more voices are approaching.

Pilar hesitates as her two companions finally get the better of the sailor. “Get the other boys off and then watch for us,” she says. “We’ll get off the ship from the deck. If we don’t come…don’t wait. Get the boys to safety.” Then she follows Liliana into the passage.

Two sailors are running toward them down the corridor, and just as Liliana said, they sprint past the cabin full of Gabrieleños in pursuit of the two young women. But Liliana and Pilar make it to the ladder ahead of them and fly up through the hatch. A deckhand shouts, “There!” and half a dozen sailors immediately close in on them.

But just as they brace for the attack, there is a thunderous crash and the ship pitches hard to one side. Pilar, Liliana, and the circle of sailors all stumble and fall to the deck. Someone from the helm shouts, “ _La Santa Rosa_!”

Because indeed, the tide has driven the corvette sidelong into the smaller ship, and now the two rock rail to rail, recovering from the impact. The sailors around Pilar and Liliana scramble back to their feet, and now the two are surrounded with no way to escape.

In the jolt of impact, Buchar has fallen against _La Santa Rosa_ ’s helm and is now struggling to free his foot from the ropes coiled around the wheel. Monastario grins, but instead of dispensing with the captain, he jumps down the stairs from the quarterdeck and runs to the captain’s cabin.

“You are relieved, soldier,” he says to Reyes, but just as he reaches for the door to free Leonar and the governor, a cry reaches him from _El Neptuno_. A single glance at the other ship reveals Pilar and Liliana struggling against half a dozen sailors. One of them has just twisted Pilar’s arm up behind her back, wringing the cry from her.

Monastario looks back and forth from _El Neptuno_ to the door to the captain’s cabin. Finally he swears under his breath and races across the deck, leaping from the rail of one ship to the other over the few feet of empty space between them.

“Stand down!” he shouts to the sailors around Pilar and Liliana. “Stand down and let them go!”

The sailors turn in confusion. “But they are escaping, Sir,” says one. “Most of the others have already made it off the ship.”

“All the better,” Monastario says. “They are Buchar’s captives, not ours, and in case you haven’t noticed” (here he gestures at the chaos on _La Santa Rosa_ ), “Buchar is otherwise occupied. He is no longer in command of this vessel. Let them go.”

The sailor holding Pilar’s arm releases it slowly.

Monastario smiles. “The time has come, sailors. Join in the fight now and we sail away free men.”

There is a moment’s tense silence as the sailors weigh their options. Finally, one sailor salutes. “Sí, Capitán.” One by one, the others repeat the gesture, and then they hurry off to re-arm and board the other ship.

“Thank you, Señor,” Pilar says stiffly. “I did not expect it of you.”

He takes a step toward her and she does not retreat. “Perhaps you misjudge me, Señorita.”

She looks long at him. “Perhaps.”

Another volley of shouts rings out from _La Santa Rosa_ as the crew of _El Neptuno_ join the fray.

“Get yourself to safety, Señorita,” Monastario says. “I hope to see you again.”

But suddenly Pilar looks about her in alarm. “Where is Liliana?”

They both scan the deck and Monastario points at the girl’s small form just disappearing over the rail of _La Santa Rosa_.

“Foolish, headstrong girl,” Pilar says. “She’s gone to fight.”

“Find her,” Monastario replies. “I will help if I can.”

Pilar nods and the two of them run back toward the other ship.

When Monastario dismissed Reyes from his guard of the captain’s cabin, the corporal got swept up in the continued fight on deck, and Zorro now takes up his station defending the door against a battery of sailors who come forward, trying to regain control of their hostages. Above him, Buchar has finally freed himself from the tangle of lines and looks down over the rail at the fight. He glares at the bandito directly below him.

Just as Zorro disarms the last sailor in the line of attackers and sends him stumbling backward across the deck, a lasso drops down from above and cinches tight around his arms, pinning them to his sides. He looks up in alarm and a second loop of rope drops around his upturned head and tightens around his throat.

“You are not the only one, Señor, who knows what to do with a lasso,” Buchar calls down to him. With swift movements, he lashes both ropes to the wheel, hitching the one around Zorro’s neck so taught it pulls him onto his tiptoes, cutting off his voice. As Zorro struggles to free himself, Buchar makes his leisurely way down the stairs from the quarterdeck and plants himself in front of him.

“Well, well,” he says, looking into Zorro’s eyes, “now who is the one dangling in a snare? He looks like an excellent subject for target practice.” He draws his sword.

From opposite sides of the deck, Sergeant García and Monastario catch sight of the scene playing out in front of the captain’s cabin and race over. García hurries up the steps to cut the ropes and Monastario prepares to engage Buchar yet again. But just before he reaches him, a tangle of brawling lancers and crewmen blunder in between them, bearing Buchar across the deck in the middle of the melee. Monastario is left in a strange patch of calm like the eye of a storm, face to face with Zorro, who can do nothing but gasp through gritted teeth as the rope chokes off his breath.

“After all this time,” Monastario murmurs, “here you are, wrapped up like a gift.” He slides his sword up along Zorro’s cheek and slips it underneath the mask at his temple. “All it would take is a flick of the blade to remove every trace of doubt.”

Zorro stares at him, wild-eyed and helpless.

Suddenly, García, looking down from above, cries out, “Comandante!”

And as though his call has broken a spell, Monastario withdraws his blade, steps back, and swings his rapier hard, slicing through the rope that suspends Zorro from the neck. Zorro slumps down, and at the same time García cuts through the line binding his arms. 

Dragging the noose from his throat and catching his breath, Zorro says, “You are a gentleman after all, Monastario.” But at that moment, another sailor comes charging onto the scene and Zorro engages him without missing a beat, fencing him gleefully across the deck.

Monastario watches him go, and García joins him, observing the scene. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Monastario says.

“That is all right, Comandante,” García replies. “I think we both know what we would have seen underneath, eh?”

Monastario stares at the sergeant in astonishment, but then García shouts, “Behind you!” and Monastario spins to block a blow from an attacking sailor.

Zorro has backed the crewman to the rail when Buchar returns to the fight with the rage of a thwarted man. He pushes the sailor out of the way and offers himself as opponent. Zorro sweeps his cape up over his forearm and engages.

Meanwhile, Monastario has picked up a second opponent, the pair so closely resembling each other that there is no doubt they are the father and son Cavenses. Stroke for stroke, Monastario battles them across the deck, when suddenly he comes back to back with another fighter. Both turn, ready to attack, but find it is Zorro facing Monastario. Without a word, they turn back to their real opponents.

They battle on back to back until Zorro cries, “Down!” and both duck to avoid a whistling swipe from Buchar’s blade. While they are down, they pivot around each other and come back up with Zorro facing the Cavenses and Monastario facing Buchar. They continue the fight, thrust and parry, stroke and block, until Buchar’s blade snaps near the hilt and for the second time in as many days, he is left holding a useless hand guard. 

He throws down the broken blade and takes off running to find another weapon. Monastario gives a cry like a hound in the hunt and sprints after him.

At the same time, Zorro lunges forward and the younger Cavens suddenly drops his blade, clutching a bleeding hand. He falls away and Zorro turns his attention to the remaining swordsman.

As his former comandante pursues Buchar up and around the quarterdeck, García turns and finds himself facing the unguarded door of the captain’s cabin. He looks cautiously around and sees all parties furiously engaged in their own skirmishes: no one is anywhere near him. Drawing himself up, he opens the cabin door and announces, “Sergeant Demetrio Lopez García at your service, Governor. Come this way.” Then he offers his hand to Leonar. “Please, Señorita.”

The three of them hurry across the deck, keeping to the rail to avoid the fighting sailors. When they come to the boat, suspended from the winch out over the sea, García bundles the governor over the rail. As he turns to help Leonar aboard, he catches sight of Zorro and the elder Cavens fencing their way toward them.

“Forgive me, Señorita,” he says, and scoops her into his arms, tossing her unceremoniously into the boat. He rolls over the rail seconds before Cavens backs into the space he just occupied. Scrambling to his feet, García cries, “Rowboat away!” and reaches back over the rail to release the gear of the winch holding them aloft.

The boat plunges down into the sea and Cavens stumbles on a coil of rope, falling hard on his back. Zorro leans out over the rail to see that the boat has landed safely in the water. Looking back up at him, García shouts, “Señor Zorro!” and points.

Zorro turns just in time to see Buchar bearing down on him with his sword raised. He dives out of the way and the blow of the saber Buchar has picked up rings against the ship’s rail. Before he has time to get back on his feet, Buchar charges for another blow. But suddenly he staggers backward with a shriek, and when he turns, an astonished Zorro sees the small form of Liliana clinging to Buchar’s back, her teeth fixed on his ear.

Buchar hurls Liliana onto the deck and turns his rage on her, but his killing blow is blocked by the sword of Monastario, who throws the saber off and advances on Buchar, forcing the pirate to fight him instead.

Zorro ducks in between their blows and swoops Liliana out of the way. He hurries her across the deck toward the hatch, but before he can stow her away belowdecks, a masked face under a white hat appears in the darkness of the hold. Zorro leaps back in surprise, then breathes a sigh of relief.

“Get her off the ship safely,” he says to Bernardo. 

“I’m not leaving while they’re still fighting!” Liliana protests.

“Señorita,” Zorro says, “I owe you my life, but this is no place for a child.”

“I can’t leave Pilar!” she insists.

Zorro looks around the deck. “I’ll find her, Liliana. You have my word.”

Only then does she consent to be spirited away by Bernardo. He takes her back to the now empty captain’s cabin and locks them in. He reopens one of the windows, but when he leans out, the rowboat he left below has drifted far out to sea, barely visible on the dark water.

Bernardo turns back to Liliana in confusion. He points to her and makes a swimming motion.

“I can swim,” Liliana says, “but not that far.”

As the Ghost of Zorro, Bernardo doesn’t have to pretend to be deaf. His eyes grow wide with concern behind his mask, and he leans out the window again to look at the boat. But then he blinks and looks again. Just below them, swimming in tight circles and looking up at the window, is Phantom.

Bernardo draws in his head and motions for Liliana to come to him. He helps lift her through the window and, when she sees the horse below, she drops down into the water with a splash. Bernardo follows her with a slightly larger splash. With Liliana clinging to Phantom’s floating mane, the three strike out toward the shore.

Back on deck, Zorro searches for Pilar, crossing blades impatiently with whoever gets in his way and thrusting them quickly aside. Monastario is exchanging lightning-quick blows with Buchar in the bow as though neither will ever tire. Zorro has made his way up to the helm when he spots Pilar on the deck of _El Neptuno_. As he watches, she tussles with one of Buchar’s men who has pursued her onto the other ship and sends him with a cry over the rail and into the water below. Running back across the deck, she calls Liliana’s name.

Having spotted her, Zorro takes stock of the situation on _La Santa Rosa_. The lancers and the sailors loyal to Monastario are still fighting, but they are outnumbered and clearly growing weary. One of Buchar’s men knocks the sword from Corporal Reyes’ grip even as Zorro watches from above. The corporal backs away, hands raised.

That seems to decide him, and he rings the ship’s bell beside the wheel. “Lancers to _El Neptuno_!” he cries. “Sailors, return to your ship!”

It seems not to occur to either group to doubt the orders of the masked bandito, because both lancers and crew disengage from their individual skirmishes and leap over the rail onto _El Neptuno_.

“Monastario!” Zorro shouts to the pair still dueling in the bow. “Monastario, that’s enough!”

Monastario locks blades with Buchar, glaring into his face from inches away, but at last he throws him off with a snarl and jumps back onto _El Neptuno_. Zorro seizes a line secured to the yard arm above him and swings from the quarterdeck and down to the main deck of the smaller ship. 

“Liliana,” Pilar says, rushing up to him.

“She’s safe,” Zorro assures her. “She’s on her way to shore.” And her shoulders sag in relief.

Buchar has rushed to the rail in pursuit of Monastario, but instead of following him over to _El Neptuno_ , he stops himself, rises to his full height, and straightens his jacket.

“First mate,” he says loudly enough for the crew on the other ship to hear, “order the gunners below. You may fire when ready.”

“Aye, Captain,” the mate says, and repeats the orders in a shout across the deck.

“Can you move us away?” Zorro asks Monastario.

“Not quickly enough,” Monastario replies, but still he orders the anchor weighed and the sails set.

“Gunners in place, Captain,” the mate reports.

“Fire at will,” Buchar says calmly.

“Fire at will!” the mate cries into the hold.

There is a tense moment of silence, but nothing happens. Buchar’s smile goes a little fixed.

“Officer?” he says.

The mate leans into the hold and then comes back to relay the message. “The ammunition is gone, Sir! The cannonballs, the gunpowder—it’s all gone!”

Sighs of relief go up from the crew of _El Neptuno_ and Zorro chuckles. “Bernardo,” he says under his breath.

A light comes back into Monastario’s eyes. “Señor Zorro,” he says loudly.

“Sí, Capitán,” Zorro replies.

“Order the gunners below. You may fire when ready.”

“Sí, Capitán,” Zorro says smartly.

Buchar’s eyes go wide. “Helm, bring us about!” he shouts. “Get us under way!”

Zorro does not order the gunners below. He and Monastario watch as the corvette’s sails unfurl and the ship makes a slow pivot toward the open ocean. The wind is picking up and soon her sails are full as she begins to move away.

Suddenly Monastario gives a cry. “The ransom! Buchar still has it!”

“Forgive me,” Pilar says politely from behind him, “but he doesn’t.” She goes over to an empty rain barrel and pulls out the locked wooden box. In answer to Monastario and Zorro’s unbelieving stares, she says, “I was looking for Liliana belowdecks and found the treasury.”

“Thank you, Señorita,” Zorro says as though that is all he can think of.

“Thank _you_ , Señores,” she replies, “for what you did for Liliana. And you, Señor Monastario, for calling off the sailors. You did not have to do that.”

“I think I did, in fact,” Monastario says.

When he continues to look at Pilar but says nothing more, Zorro sighs. “What Monastario won’t tell you, Señorita, is that he gave up a pardon to protect you and Liliana.”

She turns her eyes to Monastario in surprise. “Is this true?”

Monastario’s embarrassed silence confirms Zorro’s words.

“Well,” Zorro goes on, “you are a capitán again, at least.”

Monastario looks at Zorro and opens his hands. “I make a good pirate, do I not, Señor?”

Zorro bows in agreement. 

Pilar walks to the rail and signals to the canoe that still waits below. Monastario watches her but doesn’t approach. Zorro does. “And you, Pilar, once the boys are safely on shore, will you accept an escort back to the mission?”

“Yes, the mission,” she says with a flat voice. “I suppose I must.” She raises her eyes to the horizon and asks, “It is very ironic, is it not, Señor Zorro? I love the sea. I, a pirate’s hostage. But I have always loved the sea. The mission will feel very small, after all this.”

Now Monastario steps forward. “Then come with me,” he says quietly.

She stares at him. “Come with you where?”

He waves his hand over the sea. “Anywhere you like. You don’t have to return to the mission. Please, Señorita.”

She looks from one man to the other. “I cannot leave Liliana.”

After a pause, Zorro says, “She will be taken care of, Pilar. I swear to you.”

“I can’t send her back to the mission all alone….”

“Not to the mission, and not alone.” Zorro leans in to whisper something into Pilar’s ear. 

Her eyes grow wide. “Do you mean this, Señor?”

He nods. “If she wants it.”

“But my people,” she says, gesturing toward the canoe. “There is still so much to be done for them. Padre Felipe is a good man, but day after day there are fewer and fewer of us in the hills, and more and more in the reducciones.”

“And if you stayed, Señorita,” Zorro says, “would you be able to prevent it?” She looks away from him. “There will be justice for the Gabrieleños one day, I hope. For all the tribes. But in the meantime, the Fox offers his sword on their behalf. They are Californianos too.”

“A guardian angel all in black,” she says with a small smile, still looking away. “But how can I sail away free when they do not have the luxury of such a choice?”

“Then we will give them a choice,” Monastario says suddenly. “I cannot sail with thirty men.” He points to the canoe below. “Ask the Gabrieleños if they will join me—not as prisoners but as free men. Send word back with the others: we will stop at San Pedro and take aboard those who wish to go.”

Pilar looks searchingly at his face in the half-light of moon and lamp. “Do you mean it, Señor?”

“I do,” Monastario says.

“I will explain to Padre Felipe,” Zorro says in answer to Pilar’s continued expression of concern. “I feel certain he will understand.”

“And what then?” Pilar asks Monastario. “What will you do?”

“Who knows?” Zorro puts in. “Perhaps there is your own letter of marque in the future, Capitán. Privateer sounds better than pirate, does it not? That would make it all worthwhile, no?”

“That depends,” Monastario says, watching Pilar.

She looks again to the horizon. At last she says, “I will go with you, Capitán Monastario.”

He takes the hand she holds out to him. “Enrique, please, Señorita.”

She smiles and leans over the rail to confer with the Gabrieleños below.

“This is farewell then, Capitán,” Zorro says to Monastario. “Would you believe me if I said it has been a pleasure?” He gives a sweeping bow and hops into the boat that is waiting to row him and the lancers to shore. “Come back to Los Angeles if you feel the salt water is rusting your blade.” And he waves as the crew lowers the boat into the sea.


	25. Episode Three: Scene Four

Sergeant García rows slowly and not in an entirely straight line, so he reaches the shore only minutes ahead of the boat carrying the lancers and Zorro. As he helps Leonar out onto the sand, they are startled by the thunder of many hooves. Turning, they see a crowd of dons, with Alejandro at their lead, armed and racing down to the water.

“Don Alejandro,” García says. “What are you all doing here, Señor?”

“We came to defend the governor,” Alejandro says, “and to ride for reinforcements from San Pedro if we could do nothing else.”

“I am honored and grateful,” the governor says, getting out of the boat, “but as you can see, you are too late. I have already been rescued, along with my daughter, by Sergeant García.”

“Me?” García asks, as though he has forgotten his role in the adventure.

“You, Sergeant,” the governor agrees. “And with the dons as witness—and the lancers—” he adds, seeing the second boat being drawn ashore, “I want here and now to demonstrate my official gratitude by making you permanent comandante of the presidio de Los Angeles.”

“Me?” García asks again. Then he comes to his senses. “Gracias, your Excellency!” He clicks his heels and salutes smartly.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Comandante,” Leonar says, and reaches up to kiss him on the cheek. García turns a deep red and his salute melts away.

By now, Zorro and the lancers have left their boat and Zorro is retreating quietly from the crowd. He is some distance away when Corporal Reyes suddenly says, “Aren’t they supposed to shoot at him now, Sergeant?”

Zorro freezes. There is no cover.

“Oh,” García says. “Sí, sí, of course. Lancers, ready!” The lancers swing their rifles from their backs. “Aim!” They train their weapons on Zorro and García puts his hand on the hilt of his saber. “Fire!” he shouts, but as he does, he draws his sword and knocks his elbow hard into the lancer right next to him. The lancer topples sideways, taking down the next man and the next, and their shots fire wide as the entire row falls backward into the creek mouth. Corporal Reyes stares at the tangle of soldiers in the water.

Zorro laughs and doffs his hat to García as he sprints away into the darkness.

Some distance down the shore, where the cottonwoods and mesquite trees grow in a thicket, Phantom has dragged Liliana back to land and the two stand dripping and shivering as Bernardo climbs out behind them, his mask still in place, though he has let his cape and hat fall away during the swim. Liliana hugs Phantom around the neck and Bernardo pats him affectionately.

A twig snaps in the trees, and they all turn to find Zorro coming out of the dark with Tornado at his heels.

“You had to swim,” he observes. “Why is Phantom all wet? You know what? Explain later. Are you all right, Liliana? You’re not hurt?”

“No, Don Diego,” she says. “I’m fine.”

Both Zorro and Bernardo gape at her. “No no, Señorita,” he says awkwardly, “I am Zorro. You must have swallowed too much sea water.”

Liliana looks confused. “Is it supposed to be a secret?” she asks. “That you’re Diego de la Vega?”

Zorro looks at Bernardo, who opens his hands helplessly.

“It’s a secret to everyone else,” he says.

Liliana comes forward to speak confidentially. “Are they all very stupid?”

Suddenly Zorro laughs. “Perhaps it takes wearing a disguise to see through one, eh, Miguel?”

Liliana grins. “Don’t worry, Señor. If I could keep my own secret, I can keep yours.”

Zorro puts his hand on her shoulder. “Somehow I do not doubt that. Now, go back up into those trees and you’ll see torchlights up the beach. Wait for me there.”

Liliana follows his pointing finger, nods, and disappears noiselessly into the underbrush. Zorro looks after her. “Well,” he says to Bernardo. “What do you think of that?”

Bernardo shakes his head, eyes wide.

“Change quickly and bring Phantom somewhere he won’t be seen,” Zorro says. “Then join me at the beach. And this time,” he calls as Bernardo hurries away, “tie him up, will you?”

Tornado waits patiently as Zorro takes off his hat and pulls a second set of clothes out of his saddlebags. As white shirt and beige jacket replace the black shirt and sash, Zorro transforms back into Diego de la Vega. He lashes the sword and scabbard to Tornado’s saddle and makes sure they are secure.

“All right,” he says, buttoning his jacket. “I’ll see you at the hacienda. Go home, Tornado.” He points inland and Tornado follows his finger with his head, then turns back and whickers.

“I said go home, Tornado,” he says, repeating the gesture. Tornado shakes his head.

“What?” he asks impatiently. “What is the matter?”

Tornado reaches up and pulls the black bandana off of Diego’s head. Diego’s hand flies up and finds the mask still in place too. He laughs. “What would I do without you, boy?” He unties his mask and takes the bandana from Tornado’s mouth, stuffing them into the saddle bag. “Now will you go home?”

Tornado whickers and trots off into the trees.

When Diego steps out into the torchlight, García is in the middle of explaining the night’s events to the dons. He looks up when he sees his friend. “Don Diego, I did not know you were here,” he says.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” Diego says. “My horse went lame over the ridge and I had to walk. Is it true that congratulations are in order, Sergeant—or should I say, Comandante?”

García flushes and extricates himself from the circle of listeners, who now turn to the governor to continue the narrative of events. “You are very kind, Don Diego,” García says.

“Then why do you look so glum, Comandante?” Diego asks.

“It is nothing,” García sighs. “Only that I have just found out I do not have a corporal anymore.”

“Corporal Reyes is right over there,” Diego points out.

“Sí,” he agrees sadly, “but he has chosen this moment to tell me he is engaged to Señorita Bastinado. It seems she was very impressed with him during the rescue of the dons’ children. He is resigning his commission and going off to be a don.”

Diego looks in amused surprise at Corporal Reyes, who is standing with his usual sleepy expression at the governor’s elbow. “I’m sure he will make a very good don,” he observes judiciously.

García makes a noncommittal noise and Diego adds, “I didn’t know one could resign a commission so promptly.”

“You can when you have that much money.”

Diego grins. “Cheer up, Sergeant. We’ll find you a nice girl one of these days.”

“Gracias, Don Diego. But I must confess,” and here his tone grows philosophical, “sometimes I think I would be better off hiring a good cook.”

Diego laughs and claps him on the shoulder.

García returns to the gathered men and Diego steps away from them, scanning the edges of the torchlight for Bernardo and Liliana. He catches sight of the girl standing unseen in the shadows watching the proceedings. As Diego walks over, Bernardo comes up beside her, his fringe of hair still wet but his white costume swapped out in exchange for his usual olive jacket.

“Oh, you’ve changed too, have you?” Liliana observes when she sees Bernardo.

Diego shrugs at Bernardo and catches his father’s eye, waving him over with a tilt of his head. Alejandro leaves the dons and his son guides the small group back into the shelter of the trees.

“Father, I would like you to meet Liliana,” he says.

“Mucho gusto,” Alejandro says absently. “This has been a remarkable night, Diego.”

“There’s time to discuss that later, Father. Right now we need to discuss Liliana.”

Liliana straightens up in surprise and Alejandro looks down at her properly for the first time. “What about her?” he asks, at the same time as she says, “What about me?”

Diego crouches down and looks up at Liliana’s face. “How would you like to come and live with us?” he asks.

“Diego!” Alejandro says, but his son holds up a hand.

“I have to go back to the mission,” she says in confusion.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Diego says. “I know Padre Felipe. He would be happy for you to have a family again.”

“Pilar is my family,” Liliana says.

Diego nods. “She is. And if you wish to join her aboard _El Neptuno_ , I will take you to San Pedro to meet her. But I promised her you would be taken care of, and if you want, I would like to keep that promise personally.”

“Pilar stayed on the ship?” When Diego nods again she folds her arms. “She always did like water.”

Diego gives her a moment to consider and then asks the question again. “What do you think, Liliana?”

The girl huffs. “I hate boats.” Then she looks at Diego with a plaintive face. “Do you think Pilar will come and visit sometimes?”

“Knowing the captain of _El Neptuno_ ,” Diego says with a smile, “I feel certain we haven’t seen the last of that ship.”

Liliana nods and sticks out her hand in a businesslike fashion. “Then I will come and live with you, Don Diego.”

He shakes her hand and stands up, smiling in satisfaction.

“Diego, I really don’t think—” Alejandro begins, but Diego interrupts him.

“I will explain everything, Father. But for now, suffice it to say that before you stands the most remarkable young lady any of us has ever met. I owe her my life. _Zorro_ owes her his life.”

Alejandro looks down at Liliana in astonishment.

“You wanted a grandchild,” Diego reminds him.

“Yes, but—” Alejandro says, still staring at Liliana.

“She may not carry on the de la Vega name,” Diego says, and then he leans in to add quietly into his father’s ear, “but I suspect, in time, she may carry on Zorro’s.”

Alejandro’s look of astonishment deepens. “Well,” he says. “Well. Zorra? What is the world coming to? But then, I am an old man with old-fashioned notions: who am I to object to a grandchild who is so very promising? Señorita Liliana, welcome to the de la Vega household.” He takes her hand and begins to lead her back toward his horse. “You must tell me about your adventures, niña.”

Diego watches them go, smiling faintly, then turns his eyes to the sea, where _El Neptuno_ is pursuing the moon into the distance.

“You know, Bernardo,” he says, “it is ironic. Corporal Reyes has found his match, and I just sent my greatest enemy off into the sunset with his own. What is it Shakespeare says? ‘Thus goes everyone to the world but I’?”

Bernardo taps his elbow and then points to himself.

“You’ll always be around—is that it, Bernardo?” Diego says.

Bernardo nods, and Diego’s smile grows bright again.

“Well, in that case,” he says, throwing his arm around Bernardo’s shoulder, “I think we can carry on. Come, my friend. Let’s go home.”

El Fin


	26. Author's Note

Disney’s _Zorro_ was one of the most beloved television series of the late 1950s. It was cancelled at the height of its popularity and I, growing up watching its reruns in the Eighties, was always troubled that the series never got a finale. It ended, but it didn’t conclude. This story is my own small attempt to pay tribute to my childhood heroes—not just Zorro but Bernardo, García, and the others—by reuniting them for one more grand adventure. As a child, I had almost as much affection for Capitán Monastario as I did for Zorro (indeed, due to live performances at Disneyland and elsewhere, Monastario was etched into the public imagination as the consummate _Zorro_ villain even though he only appeared in the first thirteen episodes), and so I felt he simply had to come back to face his old rival. In a way, this whole story exists to give Monastario the showdown he never got in the series.

In doing some background research, I quickly realized that the Disney version of Spanish California was so vastly different from the real one that any story that takes place there could either be true to Disney or to history, not both. I chose Disney, and I have been as faithful as I can to that world and its canon. (Readers interested in a more hard-edged, historically bound _Zorro_ might like Isabel Allende’s powerful 2005 novel of the same name.) Thus, most of the secondary characters in my story come directly from the series: the don families of Esperón and Yorba; the governor and his daughter Leonar; the unforgettable Señorita Dolores Bastinado, played in the series by Mary Wickes; Padre Felipe and Inocente; and the mestizo vaquero Benito, whose love affair with a don’s daughter was never resolved in the show. Likewise, the setting and background are a Disneyfied version of Southern California: the drought Zorro mentions occurs in the series, and the cliff-studded hill country—much more appropriate to Monterey than to Los Angeles—will be familiar to any fan of Tornado’s death-defying leaps over chasms and ravines. 

The television series begins rather oddly in 1820, just a year before the Mexican war of independence wrested control of California from Spain—a political drama the series has little explicit interest in, even though the second season should surely bring us into 1821. In keeping with the narrower scope of the television show (in contrast, say, with the more politically charged Antonio Banderas _Mask of Zorro_ film), rather than directly tackling the colonies’ struggle for independence, I imagine this story as being set just before the war breaks out. However, I did try to incorporate history wherever I could. Although I don’t hesitate to invent a precarious mountain road where there was none, the creek and salt marsh that feature in several scenes are real. Although it was not called so at the time, the creek is Ballona Creek, and the salt marsh has now been drained to become Marina Del Rey. For years it has bothered me that the mission Indians in the series were always called just that, as though all indigenous peoples are the same, and so I gave them the tribal name they had at the time: Gabrieleños. Their official name now is the Tongva, but that term did not come about until the twentieth century, and their name for themselves (the Kizh) seems unlikely to have come up in conversation with Californios. 

Hippolyte Bouchard (known to the citizens of Alta California as El Pirata Buchar) was a real French-Argentinian privateer, known today as California’s only pirate due to his raids of Monterey and San Juan Capistrano in 1818. He was indeed put on trial in Chile in 1819 and, although his cargo was confiscated, his ships were returned to him—including _La Santa Rosa_ , which he continued to sail, and presumably _El Neptuno_ , whose historical fate as far as I know is unrecorded. In reality he never raided Los Angeles, but given his financial situation after the Chilean trial, it does not seem implausible that he could have dropped by for a quick score. Ultimately, Bouchard went on to sail under a Chilean flag, turning _La Santa Rosa_ into a troop carrier to aid in the Peruvian fight for independence. Like many privateers, whether he is considered a hero or a villain depends very much on which side a person is on (Californian or Argentinian), but he did indeed have a reputation as a temperamental and pugnacious captain, and his crew was highly international because the locals knew not to sign on with him.

The names of some of Buchar’s sailors in my story are a tribute to the men who made the real _Zorro_ series possible: the father and son Cavenses (Fred and Al) were the fencing masters of the show; (Yakima) Canutt was famous throughout Hollywood for his astonishing horse stunts; and (Buddy) Van Horn, the imposter Zorro in the kidnapping of the governor’s daughter, was the stunt double for Zorro himself in the series. It seemed only fair to give them a role in my story, even if they had to be pirates.

The fandom of Disney’s _Zorro_ may be small now, but if even one person enjoys this reunion of our childhood heroes and villains, it will be proof (should anybody need it) that Zorro never dies.


End file.
